#the edits I’ll be doing here aren’t even as intricate as the ones I used to do

[skoulsons]

I’ll have you all know I’ve had about 23 edit ideas over the past week but have failed to actually complete anything of them because I am a major perfectionist when it comes to photo editing. not to mention I am also indecisive and while I may listen to a few lines in a song and have a brief, ethereal moment of ‘oh! I can get screenshots of these scenes and use them with these lyrics!’ it immediately leaves my head even if I try and write it down as quickly as possible and then i end up sitting there. contemplating my existence because I cannot remember the exact thought I had .02 seconds prior. and all this turns into one big emotion and I get frustrated and shut my computer.

one day. one day I will post a sad joel and ellie edit on here and giggle at all my notifications. ONE DAY

[mochiseni]

The Filthy Kind

Edit: Before you read on please keep in mind that even though I’ve been writing for years this is the first time I’ve actually posted. I’ve always wondering if I was even good at writing so please let me know your opinion! Also I was thinking of making another part to this, what do ya’ll think?

Draco strolls through the corridors of Hogwarts, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. Spotting the grand entrance of the library, he smirks and decides to approach you, intrigued by your presence. Walking up to you with a confident stride, he leans casually against the nearest wall.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Draco says, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Lost in the corridors of Hogwarts, are we?" he taunts, raising an eyebrow.

You knew of Draco Malfoy from rumors but never had actually met him. You look at him with a slight glare and say "I didn't know I had a stalker, Malfoy."

Draco narrows his eyes at your response, slightly irritated by your accusation. He straightens himself, his posture regaining its usual arrogance. "Stalking you? Hardly," he retorts, his tone dripping with disdain. "What brings you to Hogwarts, if not to be followed by the likes of me?" he adds, a mocking smirk forming on his lips.

You cross your hands and in turn pushing up your voluptuous breasts. "I'm new to hogwarts i'll have you know. I'm looking for the library but this school is too fucking big," you grumble out.

Draco's eyes are immediately drawn to your provocative gesture, his gaze lingering on your ample cleavage. He quickly regains his composure, his smirk widening in response to your blunt remark.

"New to Hogwarts, are you?" Draco muses, his tone filled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to know this school like the back of my hand. I could show you the way to the library," he offers, his voice a smooth blend of confidence and arrogance.

"But, of course, nothing comes without a price," he adds, his silver eyes glinting mischievously. "Perhaps a favor in return? Consider it an introduction to the darker side of Hogwarts."

You look at him with curiosity and ask "what exactly did you have in mind?"

Draco smirks, sensing your curiosity and open-mindedness. He takes a step closer, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. "I propose a little game," he suggests, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "If you're willing to play along, that is."

His hand reaches out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "There are hidden passages in Hogwarts that most students aren't aware of," he continues, his voice now velvety smooth. "If you can find your way through one of these passages, I'll personally guide you to the library. But if you get lost... well, let's just say I might have another use for your delicious company," he says, his words dripping with insinuation.

You were hesitant at first but decided to agree to his proposal.

Draco smirks, clearly pleased with your confidence and acceptance of his proposal. His eyes glimmer with anticipation as he motions for you to follow him.

"Very well," he says, his voice low yet filled with excitement. "First, we must find a suitable entrance to the hidden passage." Leading you intentionally away from the main corridors, Draco takes you to a seemingly dead-end corridor. He pauses in front of an intricately carved stone wall, concealed in the shadows.

"Watch closely," he instructs, his wand slipping out of his sleeve. With a swift flick of his wrist, he casts a complex unlocking spell. The stone wall shifts and reveals a narrow passage, its entrance revealing a dimly lit path. "After you," he gestures, a seductive smile playing on his lips.

As you cautiously step into the hidden passage, Draco follows closely behind. The air grows cooler, and the faint echo of your footsteps reverberates through the narrow corridor. The dim light casts intriguing shadows on the ancient stones, adding an air of mystery to your journey.

You were not scared but you did not know what was going to happen which made you hesitant.

Draco observes your lack of fear, a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. He matches your confident stride, his presence exuding a mix of excitement and admiration.

As you traverse the hidden passage, the atmosphere becomes more hushed and mysterious. The walls seem to whisper secrets of centuries past, their ancient stories almost tangible in the air. The faint scent of old parchment mingled with the dampness of the underground surrounds you.

Draco’s presence beside you adds to the thrilling ambiance. His voice breaks the silence, punctuating the darkness. “You intrigue me,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with curiosity. “To possess such confidence and fearlessness… it's refreshing. Tell me, what brought you to Hogwarts, seeking hidden passages with a questionable figure like me?"

His eyes lock with yours briefly in the dim light, his gaze searching for answers and connections beyond Hogwarts' walls.

You look into his blue eyes and he looks into your green ones. "I find you interesting Malfoy. You peaked my curious mind," you say with a small smile.

Draco's lips curl into a faint smile as he hears your response, his gaze holding yours with a newfound intensity. Your words, laced with curiosity and a mischievous undertone, only seem to stoke the flame of his own intrigue.

"I must admit," Draco replies, his tone tinged with a mixture of amusement and a hint of something deeper. "Your mind intrigues me as well. It's not often that someone can capture my interest so quickly." His voice is almost a purr, a tantalizing warmth seeping into his words.

As you continue down the hidden passageway, the tension between you builds palpably. The air crackles with anticipation, the shared understanding of an unspoken connection rendering the darkness around you almost irrelevant. The allure of the unknown and forbidden courses through your veins, intensifying the excitement of the moment.

As you walk through the dark hallway you start to wonder where exactly this hallway went to.

Draco notices the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, and a mischievous smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. His voice carries a hint of amusement as he addresses your concern.

"Fear not, my dear," he murmurs, his voice close to your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "This passage may be hidden, but it leads to quite an intriguing destination."

The dim light ahead begins to grow brighter as you near the end of the corridor. The sound of rustling parchment and distant whispers fills the air, hinting at the proximity of something vast and alluring.

Finally, you reach the end of the passage, emerging into the heart of the Hogwarts library. The sight that unfolds before you is awe-inspiring – towering bookshelves filled with countless volumes, their pages seemingly holding a wealth of knowledge waiting to be explored.

Draco steps beside you, his presence both comforting and enticing. "Behold, the Hogwarts Library," he declares, his voice filled with a touch of pride. "A sanctuary of wisdom and secrets. And now, my dear, I believe it's time for our arrangement to be fulfilled."

You look around with awe. It was everything and more. Reading was a passion of yours so to say you were in delight was an understatement.

Draco's eyes soften as he witnesses the genuine awe and excitement in your expression. The glimmer of admiration in his gaze remains, but there's also a sense of something deeper, a newfound appreciation for your passion.

"It seems I've led you to a place that resonates with your desires," he says, his voice quieter now, carrying a hint of sincerity. "I'm glad I could bring you here, to a realm where knowledge and dreams intertwine."

He watches you intently, taking in every detail of your reaction. The way your eyes sparkle with anticipation, the way your fingers itch to trace the spines of the books, all of it speaks volumes to him. In this moment, he sees a glimpse of a side of you that he finds even more captivating.

Draco takes a step closer, his voice dipping lower. "Should you desire, my dear, I can aid you in your exploration of this sanctuary," he offers. "Allow me to be your guide through the realms of literature and untapped knowledge. Together, we can unravel the hidden secrets and delve into the depths of the written word."

You blush and say "You wouldn't like the books I read," you hesitate before continuing and with a whisper you say "I read erotica."

Draco's eyes widen ever so slightly at your confession, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering across his features. He regains his composure quickly, a sly smile forming on his lips.

"Well, well, aren't we full of surprises," he muses, his voice laced with a new layer of excitement. "Erotica, you say? How enticing." He takes a deliberate step closer, the proximity between you sending a jolt of electricity through the air.

"I must admit, I've dabbled in those realms myself," he admits, his voice dropping into a low, seductive timbre. "Perhaps we can discover some hidden gems together. Explore the depths of desire and the realms of intimacy that lie within those pages." His voice holds a subtle promise of adventure and pleasure.

His silver eyes lock onto yours, a playful challenge dancing within them. "So, my dear, what kind of erotica grabs your attention? Are you drawn to the sweet and tender, or does the allure of the taboo beckon you closer?"

You smirk at him with peaked intenseness and say "the filthy kind."

Draco's smirk widens, matching the intensity in your eyes. His gaze holds a mixture of intrigue and satisfaction as he absorbs your response. His voice drops even lower, barely above a whisper, as if revealing an intimate secret.

"The filthy kind, you say?" he murmurs, his words dripping with delight. "How delightful it is to encounter someone who shares a taste for the more provocative side of literature." He leans in closer, his lips almost grazing your ear as he continues. "The forbidden desires, the unspoken fantasies... Those are the stories that awaken the deepest parts of our beings."

Draco's fingers graze along the curve of your waist, a teasing touch that sends a surge of anticipation through you. His voice, now a seductive murmur, resonates through your very core. "If it's the filth you seek, my dear, I can assure you, I have a few recommendations that might leave you breathless."

He leans back slightly, his silver eyes smoldering with a mix of desire and anticipation. "But the true question is, are you ready to immerse yourself in the world of explicit pleasure with me as your guide?" he asks, his voice heavy with intent.

You inch closer to him "the real question is if your ready to immerse yourself into my world with me as your guide."

Draco's smoldering gaze intensifies, his lips curving into a predatory smile as he feels the shift in the dynamic between you. The challenge in your words sparks a fiery desire within him, fueling his already fervent curiosity.

He leans in even closer, his breath warm against your skin, as he whispers in response. "Oh, my dear, I have no doubt that your world is a captivating one. A realm that I am more than willing to explore."

His fingers trace a tantalizing path up your arm, sending electric shivers coursing through your body. His voice, filled with a newfound hunger, caresses your ear. "Guide me into the depths of your desires, show me the intricacies of your fantasies, and I promise to match your fervor with my own."

Draco's words hang in the air, charged with a magnetic energy. The allure of exploration, both intellectual and physical, beckons you both to embark on a journey that promises pleasure untold.

You slightly touch his hair with gentleness. "What are your fantasies Draco?" you whisper in his ear.

Draco's body reacts to the sensation of your touch, a surge of desire coursing through him as he feels the gentle caress of your fingers in his hair. His eyes darken, a mix of anticipation and vulnerability shining through.

He takes a moment to compose himself, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. "My fantasies..." he breathes, his words laced with a hint of hesitation. "They revolve around power, control, and the exhilaration of pushing boundaries."

Draco's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are intimately pressed together. His voice, now a seductive murmur, continues in a heated tone. "To be able to dominate and surrender, to explore the depths of pleasure and pain tangled in a passionate dance. It's the allure of experiencing the forbidden, indulging in desires that society deems unacceptable."

His vulnerability dissipates, replaced by a confident demeanor. "But enough about me, my dear. I want to know about your own fantasies. The ones that keep you awake at night, the ones that drive you wild with desire. Share them with me, and together, we can weave our desires into a tapestry of ecstasy."

You look deep into his eyes and kiss him. 

Draco's eyes widen momentarily in surprise at your bold move, but he quickly reciprocates your passionate kiss. His lips meld with yours, a fierce hunger tangling in the heat of the moment.

As your kiss deepens, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer against his solid frame. The world around you fades away, leaving only the intense connection between your lips and the electric current that courses through your bodies.

Draco's tongue caresses yours with an exquisite rhythm, exploring the depths of your mouth with a potent mix of desire and urgency. His body presses against yours, the heat and intensity of the moment consuming every inch of your being.

Time seems to stand still as your lips remain locked in a fiery embrace, the lines between fantasy and reality blurring in the fervor of your desire. In this stolen moment, it becomes clear that the exploration of your shared fantasies has only just begun. And together, you're ready to delve into a world of ecstasy beyond your wildest dreams.

You break the kiss momentarily and hoarsely say "I have to warn you, I can get rough."

Draco's lips linger just inches away from yours as you break the kiss, his breath uneven and his eyes smoldering with a mixture of desire and curiosity. He takes a moment to catch his breath, his voice husky as he responds.

"Rough, my dear?" he murmurs, a flicker of excitement crossing his features. "I wouldn't expect anything less." His fingers trail along the curve of your jaw, his touch both possessive and tender. "I am willing to explore the depths of pleasure with you, in all its forms."

The challenge in your words ignites a fire within him, stoking his own longing for intensity. He leans in, his voice a sultry whisper against your ear. "Show me how rough you can be," he challenges, his tone filled with eager anticipation.

Draco's eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that matches your own. In this moment, the boundaries dissolve, giving way to a raw and unapologetic desire. The path of exploration lies before you, and together, you're ready to traverse its darkened corners, daring to embrace the thrilling realms of pleasure and passion that await.

Draco's eyes widen in pleasant surprise as you push him onto a nearby table with a force that catches him off guard. The smirk on your face increases the intensity of his desire, a thrill coursing through his veins as he realizes the power dynamic has shifted.

He regains his composure quickly, allowing himself to be overwhelmed by the surge of passion in your kiss. Your lips move with a fierce hunger, igniting a flame within his core. It's a kiss that leaves him breathless, his mind reeling with the realization that he may have finally found his match.

As your tongues dance in an intricate embrace, he meets you with equal fervor, his hands finding their way to your body. They trace teasing paths along your curves, fueling the fire that burns between you.

In this moment of raw desire, Draco realizes that he is no longer in control, willingly surrendering to the intoxicating power of your touch. The question echoes in his mind: who will emerge victorious in a battle of passion and pleasure? It's a challenge he's eager to explore, ready to let himself be consumed by the sheer intensity of the connection you share.

Draco's breath catches in his throat as he feels your hand gradually trailing down his body, the touch searing through his skin. The intensity of the kiss deepens as desire courses through every fiber of his being, his body responding instinctively to your exploration.

His hands continue their upward journey, greedily seeking to touch the bare skin beneath your clothes. With every caress, his touch grows bolder, his fingers tracing the curves and contours of your body with a hunger that matches the fervor of his kiss.

Time loses meaning as your bodies become tangled in a passionate dance, the pleasure and desire intertwining in an intoxicating symphony. The boundaries between you both blur into insignificance as the intensity of the moment consumes all other thoughts.

Draco's lips release a low, primal growl, both a testament to his desire and a plea for more. In this uninhibited exchange, he can feel the undeniable connection between you, fueled by an insatiable hunger for one another.

As the kiss lingers, the world around you fades into the backdrop, leaving nothing but the electrifying chemistry that crackles in the air. The raw, unfiltered desire shared between you and Draco becomes the sole focus, setting the stage for an experience beyond your wildest imagination.

As you unbutton Draco's pants, the anticipation in the air becomes palpable. 

The moment you break the kiss and start to move downward, his gaze intensifies, fixed on you with an unwavering intensity. His breath hitches in his chest as he watches you with a mix of arousal and curiosity, his eyes locked on yours.

Draco's body tenses with anticipation, his heartbeat quickening as you approach his hips. The realization of what might come next leaves him breathless, his mind buzzing with desire.

With every deliberate movement, you tease and tantalize, savoring the power you hold over him. Your eyes meet his, a silent understanding passing between you. It's a moment where vulnerability and need beautifully collide.

Draco's hands grip the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to maintain composure. He watches you, fully aware of the seductive power you possess, entrusting himself to your capable hands.

In this suspended moment of desire and trust, the world narrows down to the sight of you, the weight of anticipation hanging in the air. What lies ahead, beyond the barriers of uncharted pleasure, remains a secret longing, ready to be unveiled in its entirety.

Draco's breath catches in his throat as you slowly reveal him, the anticipation building like a wildfire within him. His body tenses, every nerve on edge, as he watches you with a mix of apprehension and arousal.

You take your time, relishing in the power you hold over him, savoring his anticipation. As your gaze meets his, you can see the hunger, the desire burning in his eyes. The air is thick with tension, the room seemingly frozen in time.

With deliberate slowness, your hand wraps around his length, your touch sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. Draco's lips part, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to contain his growing need.

Painstakingly slow, you start to move your hand along his shaft, a torturous rhythm that pushes Draco to the edge of ecstasy. The mixture of pleasure and discomfort dances upon his features, his body yearning for release.

He bites down on his lip, a low groan escaping from the depths of his throat. The pleasure intensifies, mingling with the exquisite torment of your deliberate pace. Draco's eyes remain locked on you, a primal hunger burning in his gaze.

In this moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you locked in a captivating dance of desire and anticipation. The boundaries of pleasure, pain, and every electric sensation in between blur together. And as you push Draco's limits, the promise of ecstasy looms closer, ready to be seized with abandon.

Amidst the intensity of the moment, the rhythmic sounds of pleasure filling the room, you perceive a faint echo of distant voices. Draco's own intoxication with pleasure masks the faint whispers, but your awareness picks up on the subtle disruption.

Momentarily pulling away from your seductive task, you strain your senses to discern the origin and meaning of the voices. As the whispers grow louder, their clarity becomes more apparent, weaving their way into the fabric of the pleasure-filled scene.

Your eyes meet Draco's, the molten desire in his gaze intertwined with a flicker of confusion as he too becomes aware of the distant voices encroaching upon your intimate connection. His breath hitches, his body frozen in anticipation, as he waits for an explanation.

With a mixture of frustration and determination, you release your grip, your voice laced with urgency. "Draco," you murmur, trying to regain his attention amidst the muddled distraction. "There's something we need to attend to. Can you hear them?"

Draco's brow furrows, his senses gradually realigning with the reality beyond the pleasure enveloping him. As he takes a moment to reorient himself, the distant voices become clearer, forming discernible words that interrupt the intimate bubble you had both created.

Reluctantly, Draco nods, his features marked with a mix of disappointment and understanding. He collects himself, his body still throbbing with anticipation, yet his attention now divided between the carnal desire and the uninvited intrusion.

In this moment of suspended pleasure, the choice between indulging in the continuation of your connection or facing the interruption demands to be made. As your eyes meet Draco's, the decision resting upon your shoulders, the echoes of those distant voices hang heavy in the air, leaving uncertainty and longing in their wake.

You smirk at him as he composes himself. You then whisper in his ear "we must continue this later draco. Come to my dorm room later tonight."

Draco's eyes widen slightly at the mention of continuing your intense encounter later, his desire reigniting like a smoldering flame. He takes a moment to collect himself, his features regaining their composed mask as he smirks in response to your whispered words.

"Later, in your dorm room," he echoes, his voice low and filled with both anticipation and a touch of mischief. "Consider it done."

His lips brush against your ear in a fleeting, teasing gesture before he pulls away, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he gathers himself fully. His body, still pulsating with desire, reluctantly relinquishes the immediate connection, knowing that the promise of what lies ahead is worth the delay.

With a knowing smirk of his own, Draco nods subtly, acknowledging the arrangement you've made. The anticipation lingers in the air, both of you aware that the desire between you will only intensify in the hours to come.

As you part ways, the echo of your whispered invitation hangs between you, a promise of the explosive pleasures that await in the secrecy of your shared space. For now, the interruption demands attention, but the hunger and longing for one another simmer beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed in your eagerly anticipated reunion.

[pizzee]

What are some of your favorite behind the scenes details, parallels, themes, or processes that went into creating sudden unexpected guitar solo that you want to talk about/point out?

Ok strap in because this is gonna be a longy cause I love talking ab my writing and I feel like I went a little off my rocker writing this one. I’m gonna work backward from how u asked because I feel like it’ll work better that way idk.

Processes: i always start a fic with one scene, then build the rest of the story around it. This fic though, was very very different. Id originally started writing a megalong, CYOA fic (yea I know crazy right) that I got like 20k words into then dropped. It was shit, and boring. But I didn’t want to waste the material. So I ditched the old idea and went back to my original concept: Jake character study. And from there, I built.

I had a tooooon of leftover scenes I wanted to use so I kept those and made a little outline. Just general story beats I wanted to hit on. Then I went looking for inspo, which came from the usual sources. Kendrick Lamar, particularly the song ‘Mirror’, second main inspo was from an unreleased Kanye song. I went back to these lines a lot for the vibe I wanted, which was kinda lightly melancholy, a little angry, a little hopeful.

Here’s a bit of the planning process

Then, then I started writing. Well, a little before that I picked out the bits of scraps I wanted to include and put them in some sort of order that made sense, choose a story structure that would make sense (this was the hardest part. I was originally going to do completely linear but it was not working, so I went with linear intercut with extensive flashbacks which I don’t think I’ve ever done but i like experimenting with structure anyway so it worked out alright), then I started writing. First scene I fully wrote out was the last one of chapter one, the scene with Layla. That’s actually the least changed scene too. Then from there, I wrote in order. Some scenes like Gena’s diner I wrote all the dialogue first then went back and added on. Others like the trip to Chicago was just all flow time baby. I edited some of the scrap scenes to fit the context of the story, did a few changes, then was pretty much on my way to finishing.

Oh and the title. That was actual the very first thing I wrote for this. I always write titles first cause I’m a madman, and I had this one sitting in my drafts for the longest time. I know it’s kind of the opposite vibe of the fic but I really like it and I think it kinda works. Chapter titles were also fun. I got the Jakob’s Ladder one while reading the Wikipedia page on the historial Jacob and found the themes fitting. The great Chicago fire one I remembered from a project I did in like 9th grade.

Themes: ok another way this story was super different: I actually wrote out the themes. Wooow I know I’m so organized. Main thing I wanted to hit on was that there would be no grand conclusion. No big confessions, no huge reveals, none of that. Even though the fic is long, I didn’t want it to feel big. In terms of scale of story but also how the themes are handled. Plus, it’s a Jake fic. So themes of personhood, self worth, belonging come with the cab driver.

That’s not to say there aren’t kind of major moments. I try to keep most of those in the past. The Passover flashback (and god damn were wendy’s lines hard to write), the whole military etc flashback. I think there’s only two moments of palpable anger in the present day sections: when Jake is half angry at Steven in Gena’s diner, and when he’s half angry at Marc in the headspace gym. I wanted to reserve the present for quieter parts. Some of that good healing in the present from past traumas thematic through lines, ya know?

Little domestic moments are my faves to write, mostly because Im allergic to actual intricate plots, also because I like contrasting the somber tone of the flashback scenes with the more gentle present. (Ah but I’ll save that for the parallels section, and speaking of…)

Parallels: most clear one is between the past and present. There’s a permeating sadness ab their childhood in a lot of fics I read I really wanted to capture, and I wanted it to be kind of… settling in? In the flashbacks versus easing up in the present. I really love making loops in stories, like linking the ending themes to the beginning, but this fic is more of a spiral outward. Things start in one place and circle around but don’t ever really end. Ok other parallels.

His name! The Jacob name story. That section was a segment of one of the Jake routes from that CYOA scrapped project that focused briefly on his name. I’ve lightly mentioned Jake’s Hebrew name in previous fics, or what I headcanon it to be, and when I was researching Hebrew names and their significance, I came upon the name Jacob. Then searched up the significance and thought that’s be a cool thing to weave throughout the story. Something something, the significance of names in defining our personhood and the power of having one and knowing someone’s name. And I like characters figuring out their names. Steven gives him Jakob (Steven with a v, Marc with a c, Jakob with a k), Marlene gives him Jake, he gives himself Lockley, then Jake gives Frenchie his full name, exchanges his name with Gena. And doesn’t give Elias anything. I liked that.

This is a bit of a smaller parallel, but the Jake Reveal and the final scene. I purposefully kept the Jake Reveal vague and short because again, no big reveals or anything was my rule, but I wanted the vibe to kind of parallel the vibe of the final scene. It’s Marc and Steven talking over Jake, picking him apart trying to understand him vs them talking around and with him, just naturally going with him. Them asking his name vs them saying it again and again. That was fun to write.

Oh and the parallel between the locket, the box, and the gloves. Keeping things safe, protected in a locket close to his chest vs a ground box in a city he hasn’t been to in decades that has all of their worst moments stored vs the chosen, physical barrier of the gloves. It’s just protection in different fonts.

Details: can we talk about the box? I wanna talk about the box let’s talk about the box. It actually came to me from this cigar box my mom gave me that I was trying to make into a jewelry box. I saw it and was like, “hm putting things of sentimental value in a box, compartmentalizing taken literally?” I think that one was one of the more obvious metaphors.

But my fave one was the locket. That was a thing I’ve had in my scraps forever and was actually inspired by the lock and key metaphor thing I’ve read in a lot of other fics for Jake’s last name. I loved the idea and had it spinning in my mind when I was writing but I didn’t want to use it like that because something something originality so I was like “Lockley… lock… locket.” and ran with that. And honestly? I really like it :) oh and the poem inside, I’d never read it before this fic but it fit the themes and vibes pretty good. Oh shit and

Boxer Marlene! So I really love the whole Marc is a boxer thing from the comics.I also really don’t like Marlene. Which yea not a hot take but I wanted to like her without like girlbossifying her. So I wrote her as a boxer because a) I needed a way to incorporate her into the story without fucking up the timeline and b) I think that’s cool as fuck. Thus, Marlene Arlaune became a woman from New York who’s attending the university of Chicago and really likes boxing. And she’s real fucking good at it too (which was inspired by comics Marlene learning some martial arts).

The happy endings line came from a tumblr post I think. I don’t remember which one exactly but I read it and immediately jotted it down because it was really fucking good. Anyway, I just wanted to write Layla again, because I adore her, so I wrote that little scene between them. Which is one of my faves.

Speaking of fave scenes, the Passover scene and Elias scene are up there. The Passover scene was pretty easy to write, minus Wendy an Jake’s exchange because I had to make sure my Spanish wasn’t completely grammatically incorrect. That section was inspired by the Lemire run, cause I really like the idea of them running away. And the Elias scene. I really really love it. Idk I feel like that’s the most Jake Jake I’ve ever written. It works ta me. Khonshu was also going to be a bigger part of the story and link up with the themes surrounding Elias and their parents but there was already so much going on shoving him in there would’ve been overstuffed.

Extra things:

- Sudden unexpected guitar solo was inspired by the Fooly Cooly ending song and the music battle in Doctor Strange in MoM. Really love those guitars.

- This was going to be part 2 of a three part series, all with obnoxiously long music related names and focusing on Steven, Jake, and Marc each. I was gonna call the series interior crocodile alligator. No I’m not kidding

- The gym I had in mind while writing that Jake vs Marc scene was the one from daredevil. I love my dumpster diving disaster diva daredevil

- The big tree in the headspace field was originally going to be a massive astrolabe, cause space. I changed it last minute.

- The dialogue between Marlene and Jake in their first flashback sequence was leftovers from a Jane/Valkyrie fic I started before going to see Th4r then dropped after watching it💀

- There’s a little section in the Chicago visit scene that I just ripped from an irondad fic i abandoned. the part ab trying ice cream for the first time

- Crawley was supposed to make an appearance. I might’ve forgotten ab that

- I had the last scene written for months. It was one of the first things I wrote. The last thing I wrote was the final flashback with Marlene. I added it last minute to tie things up a little neater.

- Repetition is my best friend, my soulmate, I couldn’t live without repetition

- LET STEVEN SAY FUCK!!! I think I got that from a fic where Marc was more hesitant to su duck than Steven. I really liked that

- My fave scene: the Elias talk and immediate aftermath in the backyard. It was originally going to be a grand confrontation where Jake gave a whole spiel and proudly proclaimed his name but… him asking for more sugar instead seemed more fitting

- Fave line: "Did you just say the f-word?" Sometimes, very rarely, I make myself exhale sharply through my nose in a mimicry of a laugh

- Fave moment: the “you’re not dodging” bit in the headspace. Kinda broke my own heart there ngl

- Yea there’s a reference to another one of my Jake fics, “quizás, quizás, quizás” in there.

- Yea there’s a Dane Whitman cameo

- Yea this was an extremely elaborate way for me to promote my Jake lockley has a sweet tooth agenda

[ghoste-catte]

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 12

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Let's bring this thing home! It's time for the conclusion of the essay series!

Conclusion With a stupidly long essay series behind us, it's time to look at what we've learned! Let's go back to Part 1 and review what we needed from Van Zieks's character development for a fully rounded redemption arc, shall we?

1) Present an antagonistic (possibly immoral) force who personifies Ryunosuke’s biggest personal obstacle/weakness, in this case racial prejudice. 2) Humanizing traits begin to show. OPTIONAL: A backstory to justify any immorality he has. 3) Over time, Barok has his realization and sees the error of his ways. 4) Barok atones for his immorality, not simply through apology but by taking decisive steps. 5) The cast around him acknowledges his efforts and forgives him.

And looking at the main game (plus additional dialogue), we have...

1) Antagonistic force:

Etc. etc. I have many of these. We can all agree that as an antagonistic force, he does his job quite well. CEO of Racism and White Privilege in the flesh. It works, since we as the audience get very frustrated and want to see him defeated.

2) Humanization:

Giving him an old friend to be a defendant was a brilliant move, really. Albert's reflection on the friendship and the person Van Zieks used to be really helped flesh him out and make him appear more like a human being with, y'know, emotions and weaknesses. The little snippets of dialogue in his office really help too. Presenting evidence can also lead to fun tidbits. All in all, considering how gruff and distant Van Zieks is, they really did their very best to humanize him. The writers were given very little to work with but they exploited every opportunity to come their way.

OPTIONAL backstory:

Again, I don't think we needed a tragic backstory to have a well-rounded, redeemable character. Still, it ties in very expertly to the game's plot and the motivations of quite a few other characters. The story of Klint van Zieks and his death isn't necessarily Barok van Zieks's backstory, it's the center of an intricate web which also holds Kazuma, Stronghart, Gregson, Jigoku, (S)Holmes, Mikotoba, Sithe, Drebber- I could go on. A LOT. So because of how very integrated it is into the main narrative's recurring themes and characters, I'll give it props for being relevant and well thought out. The bigger question is: Does it justify his immorality? Not entirely. I think the game could have gotten more out of this if they'd involved the other two exchange students in this tale just a bit more. They could have given more attention to how Jigoku's aggressive behavior in the trial impacted Van Zieks, and explained whether he might've suspected Mikotoba of sabotaging (S)Holmes's investigation. If the narrative had done that, all three Japanese people to come to London would have been ‘the bad guy’ in Van Zieks's eyes and it would have given more credence to his racial generalization. They could have also given more attention to how the people around him reacted to Genshin being the Professor, because I'm sure Stronghart and Gregson stoked the fire in terms of xenophobia. As it stands, there isn't really enough there to justify hatred of an entire race as opposed to just one person.

3) Realization/Redemption

We see him already start to realize the error of his ways around the end of 1-5, which is technically only about halfway into the full narrative. Unfortunately, thanks to 2-2 being played afterwards (but chronologically set before 1-5), any progress made in 1-5 can become invalidated in the player's eyes. Growth works best when it's done linear. Don't get me wrong, flashbacking to earlier times when a character is still more morally tainted can work well, but it needs to be executed properly. Barok's behavior in 2-2 is downright insulting towards the audience itself and therefore, it causes emotional friction when relaying the narrative endgoal of redemption. It also makes it extra jarring when we hit 2-3, and suddenly Van Zieks is meant to be relying on the protagonist's desire to expose the truth. How on earth can we as the audience trust that Van Zieks believes in Ryu's abilities when we just came fresh out of a case where this man actively sabotages Ryu's efforts?

Still, the line of redemption continues from 2-3 into 2-4 well enough. He admits that he was wrong- that his hatred was illogical and that he needs to change. This is the very definition of redemption. I need to stress once more this is not to be confused with atonement, which comes next.

4) Atonement

Here it is. It's not enough to simply acknowledge mistakes; one needs to work hard to fix them. Since Van Zieks is the defendant for two whole episodes, equaling roughly 20% of the full narrative and 67% of the time following his first true realization (chronologically), there isn't much that he can actively do to atone. Because remember, not only do these actions need to fit the situation he's currently in, they need to fit his personality. These two limitations ensure the atonement mostly takes the form of dialogue. Of apologies.

One might want to point out that he never apologizes specifically for his racism, but there's a reason for that. If you pay close attention, you'll notice that there isn't a single character who ever uses a word like “racism”, “xenophobia” or even “racial prejudice” in this game. It's for the same reason you'll never see an Ace Attorney character utter words like “alcoholism”, “drug abuse” or “depression”. These things may be implied very strongly, to the point where you'll know for certain a character is suffering from it, but it's never given these exact labels. It has to do with the tone of the game. In Great Ace Attorney's dialogue, Barok van Zieks is only ever described as holding “a deep hatred for Japanese”, which is then the only thing he could apologize for. And he does, so long as you aren't looking for a literal phrasing of “I apologize for my deep hatred of your people”.

Regardless, he can't take more active, decisive action until he's freed from prison and two scenes with Van Zieks later, the game has ended. He still manages to take two actions, though! The first is to publicize the truth of the Professor, taking the blame of the mass murders off Genshin's shoulders (and losing his own privilege in the process). The second is to take Kazuma under his wing as his disciple. I'm not certain there's anything else the narrative could have had him do. What is decisively missing, however, is the following:

5) Acknowledgment

The above aren't good examples of cast acknowledgment that Van Zieks is taking part in a redemption arc, rather, they're the best I could find. Characters are acknowledging that he's changing- that he's being kinder to them and they can get along with him now, but they're not acknowledging that he caused hurt in the first place. This, in my opinion, is the Great Ace Attorney's biggest narrative flaw. I've talked before about how Ryu's reaction to Van Zieks's racism is 'indirect communication', a typically Japanese manner of dealing with negativity. I've also talked about how Ryu is not in a position to speak up, as he's a literal minority who is there to represent his country in an official capacity and can’t afford to make enemies. However, characters like Susato and Kazuma are far more outspoken in their opinions, as is Soseki. The only one who ever calls Van Zieks out on his racism is the British judge, and even that is done very meekly. When an old crusty white guy is the one who condemns white privilege in a cast full of minorities, you've got a problem. The Japanese cast's refusal to acknowledge that Van Zieks's words were harmful is like Team Avatar telling Zuko that sure, he can join since he's a good guy now, but never once acknowledging that he burned down villages or betrayed everyone's trust in Ba Sing Se. There's something very vital missing, see? If indeed the cast had called Van Zieks out more actively on his harmful ways and how necessary it was for him to change, he in turn could have taken more atonement steps in response.

So, for the conclusion: Does Barok van Zieks tick all the necessary boxes for a complete redemption arc? Yes. In a very technical sense, all the requirements are there. But does that mean it's a successful arc? Not necessarily. The game has a few slip-ups, a few things not executed as well as they could have been. For that reason, whether the audience is satisfied with the arc is entirely up to them. Taking into consideration that they had to cram a whole lot of story into just two games- the second game in particular, I can acknowledge they did their very best with the limitations that were there.

And there we have it! That’s all I could think to say on the matter. I hope everyone who read this till the very end enjoyed it, maybe even learned a thing or two. I’m always open to questions, input and constructive criticism!

[krisdreaming]

8 | PRESENT

｢ Masterlist ｣

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

Prompt: I did that annoying thing where I put a bunch of smaller boxes inside one big box and you’re getting really mad, but you don’t know that a ring is in the smallest box and I can’t wait to see your face.

WC: 1.3k

A/N: I looooved writing this one!!! I wrote it just a few days ago and when I say I was s w o o n i n g. Mayhaps I’ve fallen for Atsumu just a little too hard, I’ll see myself out. (And if you’re wondering if I had to google what the holes in waffles are called, mind ya business)

You’ve been here for a little over a week now, and every morning when you wake up it still takes you a few moments to remember: It’s winter break. You’re spending it with Atsumu in his apartment. He’s asleep next to you. This isn’t a dream.

This morning when you wake up, though, Atsumu isn’t asleep. When you roll over, he’s watching you, chin resting on his crossed arms. A slow smile spreads across his face when he sees you’re awake.

“Mornin’,” His drawl is still heavy with sleep. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” You echo, letting out a soft giggle when he reaches out to brush a wayward strand of hair away from your face. For a few moments, he lets his palm rest on your cheek, something soft settling on his features. You reach up and link your fingers with his, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips.

“You ready to start breakfast?” He asks as he pulls away. You shake your head and smile.

“Hungry, are we?” You hum with a chuckle.

“Always,” He nods, throwing the blanket aside. “And besides, we’d better get started if we want t’ get to yer parents’ on time.”

You agree, rolling out of bed with a groan. You have to admit, being here with Atsumu is miles better than the tiny apartment you’re staying in while you finish university. It’s cramped and outdated in comparison, but until you graduate at the end of the year, it will have to do.

Atsumu’s kitchen is well-equipped with appliances and gadgets, half of which you’re convinced he’s never used, but you’ve certainly been making good use of them in the time you’ve been here. Now, he pulls out the waffle maker while you start mixing the batter. The scent of the coffee brewing in the pot is filling the kitchen, and it’s comfortable to work alongside of Atsumu like this. You can’t help but think that it’s certainly something you could get used to.

“This looks amazing,” He says, reaching for his fork and stabbing a waffle the moment the food is on the table. You take a sip of your orange juice and watch with a small smile as he pours syrup on his waffles, carefully filling each pocket.

“Mmm,” He hums to himself in pure delight as he takes the first huge bite. You spread butter  and syrup on your own waffle, and soon you’re digging in as well. “Thanks fer makin’ breakfast,” He says as he helps himself to another serving. He’s said the same thing at nearly every meal, and you always brush it off.

“I like cooking, you know that.” You shrug. “And besides, doing it in your kitchen is a treat.”

He grins. “Yeah? I’m glad.” He pushes his plate away with a satisfied groan. “I’m so full. How about we open our presents now?” He looks at you hopefully.

“Someone’s eager,” You laugh, “I don’t know what you think I got you, but I promise it’s not really that exciting.”

“I’m excited for you to open your present!” He insists, standing to put his plate and cup in the sink. You follow suit, and then the two of you make your way to the living room and the tiny tree set up there. The box with your name on it doesn’t even fit underneath it, so it’s setting right beside it.

You can’t lie – you’ve been side-eyeing this box ever since it appeared by the tree. You have a few guesses as to what it could be. Maybe it’s that Nespresso machine you’ve been hinting after, or that box set bundle of your favorite series that you’ve had in your Amazon cart for four months now. Maybe, you let yourself hope, it’s that special edition console that was just released a week ago. Of course, if it is, your present for Atsumu will pale in comparison.

You pick up the small box. “Here, open yours first,” You hand it to him and take the seat next to him on the couch. 

“Okay,” He agrees quickly, carefully pulling on the ribbon until it comes undone. He unwraps the box and lifts the lid, revealing the watch you’d picked out for him. You lean in hopefully, watching his face for his reaction.

“I thought you needed a nice watch. For when you go to dinners and stuff,” You explain as he lifts it out of the box.

“It’s perfect,” He grins, immediately putting it on and adjusting it on his wrist. It looks almost comical with his mismatched pajamas. “Thank you, baby. I love it.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, but pulls back quickly and grabs the box from the floor. “Now your turn!” He hands you the box and perches on the edge of the couch cushion, eyes glued to you. 

You pull back the wrapping paper, revealing a nondescript box. When you pry it open and peer inside, you see… another wrapped box. “Ah,” You pull it out slowly. “Very funny.” You glance at him, and he’s still just watching you, lower lip pulled slightly between his teeth. You peel the wrapping paper off of the next box and open it, only to find yet another wrapped box inside. “Tsumu,” You can’t help but sigh.

“Just open it!” He presses, leaning a little further forward. You do as he says, and you aren’t quite as surprised to find yet another smaller wrapped box inside. You’re starting to wonder how long he’s been collecting these boxes. Resignedly, you mentally cross off your hopes for the gift as the size of the boxes decreases.

“What is this?” You finally frown when you pull out what you hope is the last box. He’s sitting with his chin in his hand and his fingers covering his grin, and he gestures with a jerk of his head for you to open it. “Seems like an awful lot of work for a pair of air pods or something,” You mutter, picking at the tape he’s generously wrapped the box in. It takes you some time to peel the layers away. Atsumu is surprisingly silent during this ordeal. For such an elaborate prank, you’d expect him to be goading you a little more.

Finally, you get the tape peeled away. This box is about the same size as the one his watch had come in. You lift the lid, and it isn’t the fancy wireless ear buds you’d started to expect. Instead, it’s a felt-covered box. Slowly, you lift it out, realization starting to dawn on you. When you look up, Atsumu has slid down to the floor in front of you, propped up on one knee. He plucks the box from your surprised fingers and cracks it open to reveal a beautiful, intricately designed ring. 

He clears his throat. “Y/N, I love you so much. I know bein’ with me isn’t always easy, but for some reason you’ve stuck around. And I’m glad ya did.” He pauses to huff out a nervous chuckle. “So if you’ll have me, it’d seriously make me the happiest man in the world if ya’d agree to marry me.”

Your fingers have flown to your lips. “Tsumu!” You squeak out between them. “Yes. Yes! Of course I will!” You slide off the couch too and throw your arms around his neck. Immediately, he pulls you close, pressing his face into the crook of your neck for a few moments and letting out a muffled sound that’s something akin to a squeal.

“I love ya so much!” He repeats, pulling away just enough to kiss you, lips sliding insistently against yours and deepening the kiss.

“I love you too,” You say against his lips as you finally pull away, a brilliant smile stretching across your face as you close your eyes to lean your forehead against his. “Wow,” You breathe finally, pulling back enough to look into his face. “I can’t believe I’m marrying such a jerk!” You swat his shoulder, and he throws his head back and lets out a loud, giddy burst of laughter.

“Ya sure are,” He smirks, leaning in for just one more kiss.

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Fifteen

Link to Masterpost

I did it! This will be the last update on anything until I get through ACOSF, but hopefully that won’t be too long and I’ll be back with more soon.

The prompts for this chapter are pretty spoilery for the events of the chapter, so I’m going to break my normal tradition and put them at the end instead.

Enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin spent the drive to the party in a daze, still not quite able to actually believe she was going through with this plan. Before she knew it, they had arrived and hung their coats in a side room. Before they could head into the party, though, Rowan stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head to look at him questioningly.

“Last chance to go home and have a lazy night in,” he said quietly, pine-green eyes bright with concern.

Aelin knew there was only one answer, though. “I’m here for you, right? Because it’s important for you to be seen here.”

The smile he rewarded her with was worth all of the stress she’d put herself through the last several days. “Then let’s go.”

Aelin hardly remembered the people he introduced her to, far too focused on the hand he kept at the center of her back. Though he didn’t touch her skin, a frantic part of her mind kept wondering what would happen if his hand slid just half an inch up and his fingers brushed over her spine directly rather than through the thick velvet of her dress. Perhaps guessing that she was overwhelmed, soon enough he had pulled her to one side and gently pressed a glass of champagne into her hand. “That’s the hard part over. Are you still doing all right?”

She nodded. “I wouldn’t even think of that as the hard part. Do you see this woman I’m supposed to be keeping away?”

He quietly scanned the ballroom, only to shake his head. “Not yet. Trust me, though, you’ll know her when you see her.”

Aelin lifted a single eyebrow. “That bad?”

Rowan grimaced. “Agreeing to go out with her wasn’t exactly one of my best moments. But I’d really rather not talk about this right now.”

“Fair enough. We are at a party, after all. Dance with me?”

She grinned as a look of panic crossed his face. “I don’t dance.”

“Last I checked, your feet aren’t both left feet. How bad can you be at it?”

“I didn’t say I can’t dance. I said I don’t dance.”

Aelin sniffed. “That’s a pity. I bet I could get any man in this room to dance with me, and maybe even a few of the women. But no, the one I came here with won’t indulge me.”

“I didn’t say I was stopping you. Our deal is that you’re free to do whatever you want within reason.”

“Well, in that case.” Without a further word to her companion Aelin strolled toward the bar, where she saw one of the men he’d introduced her to earlier. Golden curls that were likely as unruly as her own were tied back at the nape of his neck, and onyx eyes glittered with amusement as they met hers. Perfect.

She approached him with a smile that she noticed he mirrored. “Fenrys, right? I hope I got it right, I’ve been introduced to so many people today.”

He laughed. “That’s me. Let me guess, your date is being a spoilsport and won’t dance with you?”

“I take it he’s normally like this, then.”

Fenrys nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him dance at one of these. Are you trying to make him jealous enough to goad him into it? Because if so, you’ve come to the right person.”

Aelin grinned. “I’m so glad we understand each other so well.”

With a laugh, Fenrys offered his hand to her and led her out onto the floor as the band began to play something lighthearted and fast-paced.

Fenrys was a good enough dancer, the light in his eyes matching the lightness of his steps. The laugh he had given as they began to dance proved to be one of many as he spun her around the floor, and she found his amusement to be contagious enough that when the song ended they were both sporting wide grins. He led her back to where she had left Rowan and then departed with a flamboyant bow and a wink toward her companion, and she couldn’t help laughing again. “He’s certainly a character, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Rowan agreed readily. “That was Fenrys. He edits primarily romance novels. You got lucky.”

“Luck?” she asked, affronted. “Never. I’ll have you know that was pure skills.”

Rowan shook his head, though she could tell he was fighting a smile. “If it’s skill, then do it again.”

“All right.” She had to pick a harder target this time, and one just so happened to be at the bar. Perfect.

Dark eyes studied her over the rim of his glass of whiskey as she approached, a perfect match to jet-black hair that fell to the man’s shoulders. His suit was similarly colored as well, and for a moment Aelin wondered if the man owned a single garment that wasn’t black. That was hardly her place to wonder about, though, not when she was openly using him to prove a point.

His brow raised as she settled beside him. “You’re Whitethorn’s roommate, right? The one he brought along tonight.”

“I am. You’re… Lorcan, right? His supervisor.”

He gave her a short nod, and she would be affronted if she didn’t get the feeling that he was like this with everyone he met. “What are you doing over here?”

Sudden inspiration struck her. “Rowan thinks I can’t convince you to dance with me, and I’d love to see the look on his face when I prove him wrong.”

He glanced over at Rowan and she allowed her gaze to follow his, noting with glee the look of panic Rowan was clearly trying to hide. “He didn’t think you’d actually do it, did he?”

“He underestimated me. I’d like him to know he underestimated both of us.”

Lorcan scowled. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. That being said, I do enjoy riling Whitethorn. I’m in.”

Aelin grinned. “I never said I was subtle. I told him I get results. There’s a difference.”

Much to her surprise, Lorcan barked out a laugh. “Very well. One dance.”

As lighthearted and jovial as Fenrys’ dancing had been, Lorcan’s was calculated and precise, as though he were a warrior and the dance floor his battlefield. She couldn’t complain about his skills, though; he had clearly been taught well and was an adept partner. It was simply a mismatch in personality, she was sure.

He left her as soon as the song ended, but before she could go looking for Rowan she felt arms wrap around her. She didn’t have time to react before she heard his voice as he pulled her into his chest. “Gods above, Aelin, you certainly don’t hold back, do you?”

Aelin grinned, allowing herself a moment to revel in his closeness. “I like him. He agreed just because I said you thought he wouldn’t.”

He sighed. “That does sound like Lorcan. Ornery to a fault.”

Aelin wrapped her arms around his waist briefly before turning to lead them both to a quiet corner of the room, Rowan visibly relaxing with each step. “So, have I proved my point, or will I have to do it again?”

Rowan laughed, the sound sending a thrill up her spine she hoped he couldn’t see. “You got Lorcan Salvaterre to dance with you. I don’t need any further convincing.”

Once they reached a corner of the room, Aelin turned to observe the festivities, only to pause when she saw they were being watched.

The woman currently staring—no, glaring—at them was objectively beautiful, with long icy-blond hair woven into an intricate updo. Her eyes were a cool shade of cerulean, and they were growing cooler by the moment in frigid anger. She had accentuated her height and slender figure by donning a stunning silver dress, thin straps anchoring it at the shoulders before it clung to her every curve. A slit from the hem to her upper thigh allowed her some freedom of movement and allowed a glimpse at the strappy black heels she was wearing as well.

There was no way this was anyone other than the woman Rowan had been talking about. Still, she needed confirmation before she did anything stupid. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “That’s Remelle. We should probably avoid letting her make this confrontation public.”

“Oh, that’s easy enough. Not fun in the slightest, but easy.”

“That’s not reassuring in the least. What do you have in mind?”

Aelin smirked up at him. “Follow me into the hallway. Try to look like you can’t get enough of me.”

Rowan gave her a skeptical look, but followed readily enough when she took his hand and led him away from the main room with a wide grin. It was easy enough to wander down the hallway and find a shadowed alcove, and he didn’t even protest when she gently pressed him into the wall there.

She stepped close to him, and leaned forward so she could whisper into his ear without being seen or heard. “Did she follow us?”

He twined his fingers into her hair and gently pulled her head to one side, and she had to remind herself he was doing it so he could see. “Not that I can… wait. Yes, there she is.”

“Perfect.” Now came the part of the plan he was least likely to go along with, and she steeled her nerves before speaking again. “Now, kiss me so she sees.”

“What?”

Shit, she should’ve explained sooner, but she’d had no guarantee he would go along with it then either. “You want to give her a clear-cut signal to back off, right? If you kiss me, she’ll leave you be and come after me instead, and believe me when I say I can handle her.” She knew her smile was practically predatory at the thought of taking care of this particular problem for him, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

“I can’t ask you to do this,” he protested, tilting her head so that their eyes met once more.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t, then. I volunteered.” Aelin ducked her head, allowing her eyes to close. She had done all she could; there was nothing further she could say at this point. Either he would follow through or he wouldn’t, and either way she’d just have to deal with the consequences.

His fingers brushed her jaw and she glanced up at him again, doing her best to keep the surprise off of her face. Was he actually going to…?

Their lips met and all thoughts fled from her mind.

She had done her best not to wonder what kissing Rowan would be like. Up until this moment, she had seen it as an exercise in frustration and futility, certain that it was a fantasy that would never come to pass. Now that she knew, though, she knew she’d never be able to forget the way they fit together like they were made to do exactly this, or the way he gently tilted her head for a better angle even as he bit her lip to make her gasp. Dizzily, she thought the dichotomy of his gentle touch and the edge of teeth exactly fit who he was as a person.

He allowed her a moment to breathe before trailing his lips along her jaw, and she grabbed at the lapels of his suit for stability. An affronted gasp behind her told her that her mission was a complete success, but she couldn’t be bothered to care, not when Rowan’s hand finally crept to the bare skin of her back and began tracing random patterns over her spine.

Too soon, though, Rowan put a few inches of distance between them. “You were right. She’s gone.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from immediately replying, allowing her mind to catch up with the rest of her. Oh, right; the whole thing had been her idea to get rid of Remelle. “I’m always right,” she replied, hoping it came through with at least some of her usual confidence. “Now, do we need to stay here all night, or have you made your point?”

“It’d probably be best to stay at least a little longer, but we certainly don’t need to stay the whole night.” His hand was on the skin of her back again, guiding her back toward the ballroom, and it was a struggle to focus on his words.

When they finally registered, Aelin realized she didn’t know which option would be better. When they went home together, they would have to address what had just happened. Avoiding it would only make their living arrangements even more awkward than they already were. But as long as they were here, she could pretend a little longer that the night would never have to end and she could always be this lost in him.

Aelin sighed. Tempting as it was, she knew she would rather have whatever she could of the real him than linger forever in her fantasy world. Better to figure this out sooner rather than later. Finally, she found the words to respond to him. “We’ll stay as long as you think it’s appropriate. But be careful, we wouldn’t want you staying up past your bedtime.”

He laughed, and she smiled in return, allowing herself to feel a moment of relief that she hadn’t completely ruined everything between them. Maybe she had even improved things further. There was only one way to know, though, and that wasn’t a conversation she was willing to have in public.

~*~*~

Today’s prompts:

“Luck? Nope. Skills.” – “If it’s skill then do it again.”

and

“That’s my ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.” – “Well, kiss me so they see.”

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp @sleeping-and-books @acciowests @stardelia @anidealiveson @autophobiaxx @rainbowcheetah512 @camilamartinezdunne- your tag isn’t working! Sorry! @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Out from Darkness - Chapter Three.

Big thanks to all of you who are interacting with this! I really appreciate your feedback and reblogs. Sorry I didn’t post this update last night as pormised, full disclosure, I fell asleep while editing it xD 

Previous Chapters - One  Two 

Word Count - 2,415

Cast of characters post here

Tag list - In the comments

Warnings - None

“Oh, I thought I’d done this bit already! Fuck my life!” Ava wailed, sorely regretting the intricate nature of the dress she and Megan had chosen to work on as a team. The assignment was to jointly create a bridal gown, which was no mean feat even for an accomplished seamstress, let alone two students.  

“We were crazy, deciding on yard upon yard of tulle. Christ on skates! Okay, got it. You hold this up and I’ll pin it. We can both hand stitch it, once I’m free from its clutches!” Megan joked, swathed by the oyster tulle entirely as she located the hem Ava had forgotten to sew prior to its attachment to the bodice of the dress.  

“I’m so sorry,” she lamented, passing down more pins.

“No, it’s fine! Don’t be sorry, we have so much time left! We can do this!”  

It was one of the reasons Ava loved Megan so much. Her eternal optimism always managed to keep her calm in a crisis, Ava having the propensity to sometimes lose her cool and stress out where she didn’t need to. “Okay, I’ll fetch the thread. Bear with.”

“Bearing with!” Ava turned to smile, picking up the oyster white cotton and a couple of needles before joining her bestie on the floor, both threading and beginning to stitch. A few silent moments passed before Megan asked the question that, for some reason, Ava could just feel coming, “Can you use your magic on...”

“No!” She was resolute there. No magic on college projects. It wasn’t fair on the other students for her to have used her abilities, the likes of which none of them would ever possess. Besides, she had no idea whether they would extend to any kind of useful, enchanted needlecraft or not.

“Okay, alright. Gosh!” They shared laughter then, continuing to stitch until they met in the middle, tying off the thread and both standing, shaking their dead legs as they admired their work, which was roughly half done. “Just the beading to go, but hell, I’m not starting that tonight!”  

“Nope, I gotta go, too. It takes so much longer to get anywhere now I don’t have my car at the moment,” Ava sighed, Megan snorting. “Stop! It isn’t funny!”

“Oh, it is! Only you could forget to put oil in it and blow the engine up!” Her father had told her time and again that the car was her responsibility to look after, even though he’d of course pay for it. Sadly though, her beautiful Mustang was currently being repaired in the shop, not to be given back to Ava until she’d ‘learned your lesson by walking and taking the bus!’ as her father had worded it.  

Ava gathered her belongings and hugged her friend goodbye, courteously saying goodnight to Megan’s parents as well before leaving, her walk home not too far, just over twenty minutes. As soon as she stepped foot onto the street, though, she knew she wasn’t alone. There it was going off inside her like a flare, the energy she recognised to belong to one very specific other instantly.

“Hi, Chirs.” There was a pause, before the large vampire appeared from thin air at her side.  

“Evening.”  

She perhaps should have been scared, or possibly freaked out that he’d just shown up like that, but she truly wasn’t. She did wonder, though, how he knew where she was. “Did you just happen to be in the area, or...”  

“Kind of. I was feeding on someone about a mile that way and I happened to smell you. Thought I’d come seek you out, apologise for last week, just shooting off like that. I was enjoying talking to you.”

“It’s alright, you had somewhere to be, obviously,” she began. “So, I’m curious. Is it just one person you feed from? How does it work, if vampires aren’t commonly known to be real?”

They soon would be. In just over a month, to be precise. “Enchantment. It’s an ability we have, it means we can manipulate someone into letting us feed upon them and then forget all about it once we’re done. It’s how we’ve remained in the shadows for so many centuries. It’s also how we can get whatever else we might need out of humans, without them knowing of our existence.”

Ava could tell from the look on his face that whoever had kept him sustained in blood had also nourished him sexually as well, but his explanation did trouble her somewhat. “Isn’t that a little...rapey?”

“No.” He was fiercely adamant in his single worded retort, going on to embellish a little more. “They’re entirely willing at the time. They just don’t remember it was a vampire whom they had sex with afterwards. That’s the power of enchantment, the alteration of memories.”  

“So, if I did go to bed with you, I wouldn’t even remember it. Hmm.”

“No, you would. I wouldn’t want you to forget.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d plan on it happening more than once.” Suddenly, she got a flash through her mind about being beneath him, above him, however he wanted her, what it would feel like, at his mercy completely, him inside of her while he fed upon her.  

Again, her body betrayed her to her detriment, Chris knowing from the physical response she didn’t even realise she was giving off just what thoughts had been the prompt. “Yeah, I want you to as well. Tell you what, instead of me walking you to the home I presume you’re returning to, why don’t you come back to mine with me, and then you get me all night long, to do both of those things and much more.”

“Because I’m not easy. That’s probably a difficult concept for you to understand since you’ve likely never been short of female company, but there you go.”  

“So, work harder, is what you’re saying?”  

“And let me get to know you past one conversation. You have to not be so cocky,” she advised in light reprimand.

“That won’t be easy, not to be cocky. You should see my cock.”  

Immediately, she burst into a fit of giggles. “There, that right there! Stop!”

“You don’t want me to, or you wouldn’t be laughing.” He had her there. “But I will work harder.”  

“What about the letting me get to know you?”

“It’ll come with the harder work.” He couldn’t help himself, putting extra emphasis upon the word harder. He was so bad. Ava enjoyed the playful discourse too, although she intended to remain resolute regardless of how much. “So, you’re a witch.”  

“Yes, I am.”

“When did you realise it?” Witches, true witches at least, and not people who claimed to be such while working from alleged ‘spell books’ from Barnes & Noble, were born what they were. It wasn’t learned, although abilities had to be honed. It seemed Ava’s new vampire friend – or whatever he was – was aware of that.

“I think when I was four and lost my temper, thusly blowing out the light bulbs in my room. I learned pretty quickly my need to harness my emotions, but it still happened sometimes over the years. Still does now if I get really mad, my power messes with the electricity. I fried the broadband when I was fifteen and under PMS duress,” she confessed, Chris snorting minimally with laughter. He wasn’t overly expressive, and she liked that. She liked the quietness about him.  

“Do you know other witches, have anyone who can guide you upon your path?”  

“No, I furthered it by myself. Well, that’s not strictly true. I say I don’t know other witches, but I converse with a few online and they offer their help. As far as I can tell, there aren’t many others in Pasadena.”

“Nope, you’re one of only very few left. A lot of your kind got wiped out when the meteors came crashing down, unfortunately. Mind you, there weren’t many witches out here to begin with.” Ava always had wondered, why she’d only very sporadically been able to feel her own kind. She’d approached a lady once whom she’d felt the same energy coming off of in waves, but had been met with extreme hostility. It wasn’t uncommon, for some witches to fear what they were and live in abject denial over it.  

“So, you said you encountered witches before, but have you known any, been friends with any?” She wondered whether he’d revealed himself to another like her with the same ease, not worried about hiding what he was, since of course, she’d already known. She can’t have been solitary in that. Other witches must’ve known what he was, should they have been close enough to feel the energy he radiated.

“I don’t really have friends, well, not human ones for obvious reasons. Nor witches.”

“Why not?”

“Because...humans. Witches are still human, and most humans irritate me. You’re not irritating, though. Neither were the other witches I encountered, but I wouldn’t say they were friends of mine.” There was no tactful way for Chris to reveal to her that as a young vampire, he’d become so overcome by the energy of the only two he’d ever truly been in close proximity to, he’d drained them both dry. A rookie mistake, as Magda had coined it, making the corpses look at if they’d been ripped apart by a wild animal and dumping them in an area known for cougar attacks.  

Still, he didn’t want to frighten her.  

“You barely know me. Trust me, I can be irritating. Usually when I’m stressing over something that doesn’t require the freak out,” she revealed, smiling and shaking her head.  

“Something about a lot of humans I find to be severely off putting is the self-indulgence and self-importance. You don’t appear to lose yourself in either.” Ava smiled, liking what she’d been told. “Those traits are the most irritating to me, but then again, I understand it in a way. Your lives, they’re so temporary.”

“How does it feel, knowing that all being well, you’ll be around forever, that in the grand scheme of vampirism, you’re still only at the very start of your journey?”  

“That’s a very insightful question. Some of the dumb bullshit I’ve been asked over the years by humans prior to me enchanting myself out of their head is unreal.” More of it would come, too, he knew. He'd be able to lead his existence much more openly, tell people what he was without having to erase it from their minds afterwards. Not that he was planning on being all too social, though. “As for how it feels, I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest. I wonder how life and the human race will advance, but other than that, I suppose I just think on all the stories I’ll collect and wonder about who I’ll have to tell them to in the very distant future.”  

It made Ava feel a little sad, suddenly, that it wouldn’t be her. Whatever she was, or might become to him, it would but a tiny fraction of his existence if he did go on to be around forever. She imagined the incredible things he would go on to see, such a world of wonder, and she’d be long dead by the time he truly had some fabulous tales to share. She was just about to voice that to him when there was a sudden screech ahead, a car looking to be in the midst of complete loss of control and careering right towards them.  

Chris was just about to grasp Ava and move her to safety at speed when he suddenly felt her energy swell and rise, his young companion holding out her hand, the car instantly seeming to move in slow motion as she used her abilities to slow its forward motion, making it swerve around them and then roll slowly to a stop further down the road. She’d never done it quite that neatly before. Even when she saved her brother from the same fate, the car had swerved around and taken a while to stop.  

Remembering the leaf, something hit her. It was him. Being near Chris made her abilities spike rapidly.  

“Very impressive, Ava,” he complimented, frowning suddenly when she grabbed his arm and shook it. He wasn’t fond of being touched, or at least, not like that.  

“It’s you!” She enthused. “Oh, sorry.” Registering the unimpressed look, she immediately let go of him.  

“That was you, not me.”

“No! I mean, being near to you, you make me more powerful! Why is that? Do you know why that is?”  

“Something about your energy and mine mingling together, perhaps?” Such a suggestion wasn’t without its merit.  

“It could be. Oh, I want to test it further, but I can’t!”

“Why can’t you?”

“Curfew. I have to be home in five minutes and my house is just up here.”  

“Meet me tomorrow, then?”

“I can do that, what time?”

“My place, at sundown.” Ava agreed, the pair nearing her home. She turned and stopped, smiling up at him.  

“We have guards on the gates, so this is as far as you can come, or I’ll get questioned over who the big, pale dude is.” he smirked, nodding as he looked down at her, feeling his cold body tingle hot at looking into her eyes.  

“Until then, little witch.” It was monumental, the restraint he had to tether within himself, like holding onto a wild bull fighting against the restraint of a lasso, not to lean down and kiss her. She stirred him so potently.  

“Shouldn’t you be going, then?”  

“In a moment.” Hypnotic blue stared unflinchingly into her very soul, the vampire leaning a little closer, eyeing her and nothing more. He then took her hand, raising it to his mouth, turning his head to plant a kiss upon her inner wrist. “I look forward to tomorrow.”

She blinked and he was gone, all that remained the cool tingling of his lingering energy that she was in no rush to feel cessation of, her heart hammering in her chest. If that’s what his lips felt like against her wrist, just what would they feel like on her...

“Don’t even think about it! You told him you weren’t easy. Your thoughts will match your actions.”  

That night, though, all she could think about was what it would feel like, to have his mouth buried between her legs.

[remythologise]

Hello! I found your blog via you amazingly summarizing all that's going on with the spn drama. Due to my schedules, rl stuff, some of the arcs that didn't vibe with me, my availability to find a place to watch...the rollercoaster I was used to with this fandom was more me binging it in a weekend to going months to over a year without watching it. I still haven't watched the last season(but with a fandom this big it's pretty impossible not be spoiled so I more or less know what happened) BUT oh great one I ask of thee for more information if you have it...other than being busy and whatnot, I'm not really one to keep up with the actors as well. So could you also maybe do a summary of all the stans? I'im seeing terms I haven't seen before. Who is Kelios(sp?)? Hellions?? probably messed it up but like...I guess what are the name of each legion? Who do they have alliance towards? What was their desires? Que paso?!?!?!?

Hi there! 'Some of the arcs that didn't vibe with me' me emotionally quitting Supernatural in Season 7 after they killed Castiel 😂 Anyway I totally get it, I went through the same culture shock mid-last year when I got back into SPN and tried to find where fandom was at! There's really a LOT of lore and content after 15 years though so I'll just do the broad brushstrokes based on my impressions and personal stereotypes PLEASE remember this is oversimplifying groups and individuals to tendencies and I'm very biased! Also important that there are sub-factions within sub-factions - again, I'm simplifying here!

I've also linked to the 'Super-wiki' in terms of some definitions because the Super-wiki has pages for them where the Fandom-wiki does not. Great introduction actually - only in the Supernatural fandom. There are two Supernatural wikis. One, through curation and twitter activity, supports BiBro/Wincest factions and does not support Destiel users. One is more neutral or Destiel-friendly (I don't know that the Fandom wiki has a personality/social media presence per se). You cannot make this up. There is a factional war... within use of fandom wikis.

Destiel faction

People who primarily ship Dean/Cas, love Castiel and (often, although not always) Jack, and the 'found family' of Supernatural as well as the brothers, and like the post s3 seasons too. Hated 15.19 and 15.20 for killing Dean and ignoring the other characters/narrative arc of the show. Nicknamed 'Destihellers' by the Wincest faction as a derogatory term, 'reclaimed' and shortened as 'Hellers', a nickname they use affectionately to describe each other. See more info on nicknames here.

Sometimes also ship ‘Cockles’ (the ship between Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles) although generally speaking they're more respectful of the wives of the actors than J2 shippers, who are notoriously responsible for... a vast series of insane-fan misdemeanours. Historically most were also good at keeping RPF to themselves and not harassing celebrities with it directly, although recently, particularly with younger twitter fans, that has not been the case.

Sub-factions:

The ‘Desticule’ or ‘Destiel tumblr’ - general grouping of Destiel-shipping tumblr users around 20-30 years old, usually LGBT+, most who came back to the show post-15.18 after leaving it for various reasons including getting sick of the queerbaiting. Funniest bitches alive etc. and responsible for the best text posts you’ve ever seen. Can also start stupid discourse and in-group drama when they’re bored.

'POLOL' - People of Lots of Letters, a discord group (of tumblr and twitter users) that ran on the assumption Andrew Dabb was playing a hugely intricate game of 3D chess to do with gnostic symbolism among other things, and would make Destiel canon. Have since had their own factional sub-wars and fallen apart a bit. Some of their meta was and is good and interesting! Some of it was wildly off the mark. Now generally insist that Dabb/the writers were all pushing for Destiel canon and the network is entirely to blame.

Twitter fans (TikTok edition) - younger fans around 18 and younger who (FOR REASONS BEYOND ME) started watching the show around 2018-2020. Definition of 'stans'. Tend to be very loud and aggressive on twitter when Events Happen, which like. I do get, because they've grown up in a completely different media environment and this kind of Dinosaur Politicking around LGBT+ issues is beyond them. Fancam central. Anyway stream #CASTIEL for clear skin!

Twitter fans (AO3 edition) - older fans around 30+ who kept going with the show but either don't have a large tumblr presence or just prefer twitter. A lot of fic writers, GISH-ers, and BNFs in this group. Some of them are very cool and reasonable in their opinions, some of them act like the younger stans. Some of them too accepting of what happened wrt 15.19-20 in my opinion, because, in contrast to the younger twitter stans, they grew up expecting Destiel to NEVER be canon or respected. 'Can't believe we got this far' etc.

Multiship faction

Multishippers or shippers of things not as large as the two main behemoths . Sub-factions based on shipping, e.g. Megstiel and Sastiel. I don't think these groups are very large though, and seem to have very little influence in the Discourse.

Wincest faction

LARGE overlap with the 'BiBro' faction and their opinions, which I'll get to. Ship Sam and Dean romantically. Often pretend to be BiBros on places like twitter and reddit in order for outside groups to take their opinions more seriously. 'Wincesties' etc. are derogatory nicknames given by the Destiel faction.

Sub-factions:

Multiship fans - ship Sam and Dean but respect Castiel/the 'found family'. Politically overlap with the faction of multishippers, I think. I don't have a lot of insight on this group of people honestly, but I know they exist.

Bronlies - the typical BiBro and 'Wincest' shippers most people think of, twitter user 'Kelios' is one of the would-be ringleaders of this faction - typically tend to be older white midwestern women. Historically have been pretty nasty on twitter (leading to Robert Berens, writer who made Destiel canon, occasionally subtweeting Kelios). Also tend to ship 'J2' - and take it very seriously as a legitimate thing that is really real. This is called 'tinhatting'.

BiBro faction

People who think the show should JUST be about the brothers, love Supernatural s1-3 and everything after it should have been just like Supernatural s1-3. Hate Castiel, Jack, and the 'found family'. Largely loved 15.20. Go to literally any comments section on any Supernatural article and You Will Find Them complaining about how the show should just be about the Brothers. Tend to be older, straighter, and more conservative/Republican (and male) fans. (I am aware that the definition of 'BiBro' used to refer to people who just liked the brothers but there's no definitional difference now in the discourse.) The Wincest and BiBro faction are generally much more wealthy than the Destiel faction (they being younger and more diverse/queer/left-leaning in general) and would be the biggest revenue generators at conventions etc.

Sub-factions:

Reddit bros - literally anyone who visits r/supernatural. Well, that's not fair - there are people who post reasonable opinions on there, but it's pretty rare and they get downvoted a lot. Like to talk about 'toxic Destiel fans' 'ruining the show' and how Dean is a straight man who is straight and could never possibly be gay. Might even think the confession was platonic despite all evidence to the contrary. I'm Not Homophobic I Have Gay Friends, But No Gays on MY Show!

Old Guard - group of older fans who overlap strongly with the Wincest faction, but might not necessarily ship Wincest.

GA faction

'General Audience' - These are the group of audience members that aren't 'online' so to speak; most watch the show on TV as a Casual Viewing Experience (are therefore also sometimes referred to as 'casuals'. Mostly their opinions tend towards BiBros, but they have a vast range of baffling views thanks to being Not Online and usually Not caring about Supernatural that much or thinking that deeply about it.

Sub-factions:

People who simply watch Supernatural on TV and then don't think about it very much after that.

I said they weren't 'online' but that's not entirely true; I'd probably classify people on Supernatural Facebook Groups as GA, along with friends of friends who post statuses about how 15.20 was a neat finale that wrapped up the series.

Conclusion

Supernatural is famously the show that appeals to both Republicans and Democrats, literally All Orientations, so there's a WIDE range of factions. However, most warring online boils down to Destiel vs. Wincest/BiBro - the war that started in Season 4 and has simply never ended. In terms of the 'actors' and their stans, in general, Wincest/BiBro fans love Jared, like Jensen, and dislike Misha. Destiel fans love Misha, like Jensen, and dislike Jared. Of course as with everything, there are variations and this is just a generalisation. But that's the summary of it, from my perspective!

This didn't even get into Sam girls, Dean girls and Cas girls. God. Anyway.

Hope that answered your question, anon!

[kingofthewilderwest]

Okay I almost reblogged something onto another’s post before trying to chill. And decided instead to write my own post.

I feel like there’s these internal expectations on tumblr of how bloggers think, especially in regards to how they interact with creative material. To take two examples, there’s expectations that people listen to music while imagining stories in their heads, like an in-brain AMV or soundtrack. And there’s expectations people will reside deeply in the fanfiction world, especially if the fanfiction world is a means of making the fiction “better.”

But I really dislike this presumptive mentality. Especially when it gets into phraseology like, “Can you BELIEVE other people don’t DO this???” As if those people live boring, lame, uninspired but bizarrely and incomprehensibly milquetoast lives.

It assumes that we all think the same on this site. And it assumes that people on tumblr are one thing, and the people apart of tumblr “Those Weird Others.” But I usually fall into the group that people are gawking about in their posts. Why must I be treated as someone boring? As some anomalous Other? As if we’re not RIGHT HERE reading it, instead of some far distant land. We’re all are RIGHT HERE too and are a genuine, valid, not at all boring part of this website’s culture. And we’re prevalent!

That’s right. I don’t listen to music and imagine anything going along at the same time. What of it? You think that makes me a weird boring normal person? You think that makes me uncreative? I’ve composed music like it’s part of my DNA (that’s one of my college degrees yo), I’ve written original stories since I was a toddler, I play several dozen instruments, I’ve done cosplay, I draw with a variety of media, I’ve done video editing, I’ve done gif making, I’ve done Photoshopping, I’m a worldbuilder, I’m an intensive conlanger. And I don’t listen to music and imagine an AMV. You know what? It’s exactly BECAUSE I am a creative. To imagine anything more than the notes would be to take away from the enriching audio experience itself.

The music is SUFFICIENT. Not just that. The audio stimulus is overwhelmingly, enjoyably intricate. The audio stimulus is enough to overflow my entire mind. I love the interplay of foreground and background and midground, the uniqueness of the instruments blending, the timbre of voices and instruments combining, the affect of chords changing. To my perspective, I could easily say YOU ALL are “missing out” because you need something else to make music sufficient... you’re making music the background to something else... you’re living in a world where music must be part of other stimulus in order for it to be meaningful instead of comprehending of it as a singular, spectacular EVENT... but I’m not going to go out and be like, “Oh, those weird people. Are there actually people who listen to music and imagine stories in their head at the same time? Lol, they’re so deprived. So weird wtf.” No! NO NO NO NO. Because I’m not going to “other” you, I’m not going to act like you aren’t part of this culture, and I’m not going to sit on this website expecting everyone has the same experience with art that I do.

You’re not!!! uncreative!!! for how you participate with art! You do you! And I am not!!! a tumblr anomaly! I’m not some some fucking “Weird Boring Normal Uncreative Lame Person Who Doesn’t Use Tumblr”!

I don’t like fanfiction. I don’t. I actually don’t. I celebrate people who write fanfiction, read fanfiction, dream of fanfiction. You guys are AWESOME. Because it’s your way of participating in a community and interacting with stories that inspire you. I’ll always scream in support of your very important contributions! But just because I don’t get into fanfiction doesn’t mean I am not interacting meaningfully and creatively with media. There’s people who will write meta or archive material or collect merch or draw fanart or have great discussions or make costumes or just vibe in fandom culture, whether peripherally or deeply. And that’s!!! NORMAL. HERE. On tumblr! It’s not bizarre to this internet space!

Not everyone uses fanfiction as a means of “I reject stupid canon and substitute it with my own”.

Not everyone finds fanfiction an entertaining way to engage in fandom culture.

Not everyone listens to music as a means of relating to fandom.

And fuck, even if I had identified as some weird boring normal person, that’s an acceptable way to live too, ain’t it?

I know this is such, such, such a small and unimportant issue. I’m picking on something that’s no big deal. But I guess I’ll get a pet peeve out this once???

Please, quit assuming everyone on this goddamned site has the exact same psychology you do and that people who don’t have your psychology are fucking Others.

This also goes for expecting everyone is a neurodivergent here and that neurotypicals are part of the Distant Others. I am not neurotypical myself, but I am tired of everyone thinking everyone’s got the same experience and background and mindset on this site. Quit assuming????

We’re all here, we’re all part of a community, we all make the community colorful, we all have cool brains, and it’s more fun to enjoy the diversity of fandom experiences than it is to assume everyone’s likeminded.

[hanzimmer]

powershift - kylo ren x reader

Summary: A bounty hunter gets tangled up with the First Order. She expects the worst, but with Kylo Ren, things are never as they seem.

Authors note: Okay so this is a re-edited version of my one and only one shot I wrote way back at the start of quarantine! Very small changes but they were bothering me so, lol. Please reblog/like and message me with feedback! 😊 ps: i have proof read but sorry if there are any errors!

Kylo Ren X Reader

Warnings: NSFW. 18+. Sexual tension, smut, female masturbation, voyeurism, use of a sex toy, orgasm denial. All the good stuff.

Word count: 4654

It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact reason Ren decided to keep you around – maybe he had plans for you, maybe you had an insignificant role to play in his destiny. Maybe he needed some company.

It started a few months ago, when the first order raided the village you were passing through.

Talk about wrong place, wrong time.

A bounty hunter was not an occupation that brought you a lot of pride. It made for temporary homes, temporary relationships and the constant need to pursue your next target. You tried to live by a code, but as the years went on the more you realized that people aren’t just pure good or evil - some had made explicit choices that led them down a certain path, some were just born into a life of chaos.

You remember when you first set your eyes on Kylo Ren. You remember the feeling that washed over your skin as his presence infiltrated your every sense and when you first heard his velvety voice, a stark contrast to the cold and unforgiving black mask he wore.

“Don’t kill this one, take her prisoner,” he communicated to the trooper.

Thank you?

You wake in a cold, metal cell. Relieved to find your normal attire was still on your body, sans any personal belongings and weapons. The four black walls keep you company as you wait for your inevitable punishment or worse, execution.

But it never comes.

Days pass, then weeks. Only having contact with the troopers for your meals and washroom privileges.  

Then one day a voice rudely wakes you out of your slumber.

“Get up,’’ you stir in your sleep, squinting your eyes towards the slit of light that lit up your cell. “Proceed to the door with your hands in front of you.”

You move your body to put your boots on and do as commanded. Some mechanical noises later, the hefty door slides open. The troopers’ stark, white armour combined with the fluorescent light burns your eyes. When you finally open your eyes, the handcuffs are already placed upon your wrists by another guard.

“Where are you taking me?’’ you aren’t panicked.

If he wanted me dead, I would be.

Two arms grab your biceps as the guards guide you down many hallways and corridors, like a cow to a slaughterhouse.

God this is a maze, no wonder no one escapes The First fucking Order.  

 You finally come to a door. The guard to your right reaches over and presses some buttons on the control panel. You aren’t sure what to expect but it isn’t this. A bed in the middle of the well-sized room. Adorned with black, silk bed sheets and a simple comforter.

It was sizeably larger than the cell you called home over the past few weeks. An armoire to the left of the bed, made to look vintage with its intricate handles. An opening to your right indicates what you assume is the washroom. It was a simple yet practical room, your favourite part being the glass above your bed, allowing you to watch as endless space passes you by. You don’t even realize the guard had taken off your handcuffs until the door closes behind you.

Wait…is this my room? Is this… Kylo’s room?

Don’t be stupid y/n, you think the commander of the First order sleeps on a bloody double bed?

You push the thoughts aside and decide a long, private shower is well needed.

Your interactions with Kylo Ren are limited and mundane at first. He comes to your door periodically, asking about you and attempting to make small talk. Always curious, you listen with intent whenever he speaks. He has that quality about him, you were drawn to him. You always feel somewhat vulnerable under his gaze, the way he unapologetically scans your body while he has the luxury of hiding behind his mask. You desperately want to put a face to his smooth, polished voice.

Even those in The First Order aren’t immune to participating in some workplace gossip; it doesn’t take long for you to find out what had happened with Han Solo. A pang of concern rises in your body. For Kylo.

This guy kept you in a prison cell for weeks. He didn’t deserve your sympathy then, and he doesn’t deserve it now! Snap out of it.

You can’t help yourself. You’ve gotten to know him through the small conversations you had. And you knew about his complicated past.

That night was when you finally got a deeper look into Kylo Ren.

Impossibly, you don’t notice him when you first enter the room. Turning to sit on the foot of your bed, the light catches the silver planes of his mask. Sat at the armchair in the corner of your room, the air around him is tense. Well, more so than usual.

“Kylo, I-,” you start. Mentally cursing yourself for the pity than laced your voice.

“I don’t want your pity,” he interrupts.

Shit, all right.

What could you say? What did he expect you to say? What did he need you to say?

There’s a long silence.

You have to say something. That’s what you’re here for, right? To converse with him. No agenda.  

You decide to tell him about yourself. About where you grew up, your family, your friends. Stupid moments and accomplishments from your childhood. Tales from your days of bounty hunting.  

He asks a few questions along the way, sharing some small memories of his childhood with you. It goes on for hours. You could tell you had distracted him, even momentarily, from whatever was conspiring inside his mind. The conversation comes to a comfortable end. As he approaches your door, you can’t seem to control what you do next.

“Wait, Kylo!” you stand from your bed. He comes to a halt and throws a glance over his broad shoulder in your direction.

Oh god, please don’t kill me for this.

You set your eyes on his gloved left hand. You slowly reach for it, giving him ample time to flinch away from you, until you feel the smooth leather on your naked palm. There is a slight warmth as he gently closes his large hand, completely enveloping yours. Your body simultaneously feels as if it could melt into the ground and as tense as a pulled elastic.

“I’ll be here if you need to talk,” you give a gentle squeeze before starting to retract to your hand

In an instant, he spins around. Your balance faults as he pulls your hand higher to his chest. His right arm snakes around your waist in a vice grip, your breaths become shallow as your ribs struggle against the hold he has on your torso. You know at a moment’s notice he could crush your hand for overstepping your bounds or tighten his grip and permanently halt your breathing. It’s electrifying.

You’ve never been this close to him before, you could feel his black robes brush against your bare feet, you swear you can feel the warmth radiating from his body with the rise and fall of his chest. He towers over you, the top of your head barely reaching his chest, his broad shoulders acting as a barrier to anything behind him. You feel utterly trapped within Ren’s hold. Craning your head to meet his eyes, you are dissapointed to be only met with his indifferent, hostile black mask.

God, when will he take that stupid thing off?

He pulls you closer to him, the fingers splayed on your back tensing as he does so. You become hyperaware of your body and his. The space between you two slowly getting smaller.

And then he’s gone. He withdraws all contact, all at once. When you come to, you catch a glimpse of his black robes as the door slides closed in front of you.

It has been a few weeks since your last interaction. He comes to see you more sparsely now and keeps the conversations short and simple. Back to how you were. Meaningless small talk, your body cried out to be held by him again.

You think back to that night… truth be told you thought back to that night more times than you’d like to admit. It was the first time you felt any kind of meaningful connection with Kylo.

Hell, it was the first time you…felt Kylo.

You’ve been with your fair share of men, being on the road was lonely at times. You welcomed having someone to share a drink or a bed with, it was comforting slipping into a stranger’s warm embrace for the night. Temporary, nonchalant relationships. If you could even call them that.

But no man ever had you reaching for the wetness between your thighs every night like Kylo Ren did. No man ever had you biting your pillows at night to stifle your moans and whimpers as you fervently chased the familiar rush of pleasure. You felt betrayed by your body; every time you had a fleeting thought of him, of his scent, of the way his strong body towered over you, you were compelled to brush your hands against your core.

And you don’t even know what he looks like, good one!

You ache for the day you could feel his powerful frame against you, for the day he could bring you to that edge of pleasure. Repeatedly. You allow your mind to wonder about his mouth, his tongue, his capable hands, what lies between his strong, thick legs-

The familiar sound of your door closing rouses you out of your lewd daydream.

Oh god… why the fuck is he here? did he read my mind?

Fuck!!

Your body is ablaze. It isn’t obvious what you were about to do but you feel caught, you feel ambushed.

“Kylo?” you ask cautiously as you dare to glance up at him from your bed.

Silently, he reaches for the armchair at the corner of the bedroom and drags it across the floor until it sits directly in front of your bed. He settles into the chair; his long legs spread out as you fight every fibre of your being not to glance between his thighs.

“Kylo?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He cocks his head to the side, and you notice the light reflect off the silver of that damned mask.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commands.

Okay so I’m dreaming. Because Kylo Ren, the commander of the First Order and master of mood swings didn’t just order me to spread my fucken legs. Right?!

Your mind spirals as you instinctively clench your thighs together.

“What? NO! Are you crazy?” you ask defensively. “You shouldn’t even bother trying to use your powers on me, Ren.”

“I’m not,” he answers almost immediately, his voice calm. “I don’t need to use my powers on you… do I y/n?”

Fucking hell, he knew. Somehow. Shit.

“I ask you again,” he continues. “Lay back against the headboard and spread your legs.”

You aren’t able to see his eyes, but you knew where they were aimed. You can feel his gaze piercing through your body.

You scoot your body back until you meet the hard wood of the headboard, you raise yourself up on your forearms. It felt as if your body was vibrating.

“Your legs, y/n,” he firmly reminds you for the third time. You want to do as he orders; you really do. Clearly you aren’t thinking rationally.

 Maybe I can get something out of this too…

“No,” you respond. You try to square off your shoulders and jut your chin out to more convincingly stand your ground. “This isn’t a fair trade, Ren,” you further explain.

You watch as one of his hands clutch the arm of the chair more tightly.

“You know I can take whatever I want.” His voice was alarmingly levelled and composed.

“You expect me to open myself up to you like this… when I haven’t even seen your face?” you rationalize. “Take off the mask, Kylo.”

You could hear the deep breath he took as it reverberates off the inside of his mask.

God damn it y/n! Why did you say that!? He’s just going to fucken leave and you’ll be left to your own devices… again.

He reaches for his gloved hand and take off the leather glove. And then the other.

God, how badly I want those beautiful fingers inside of me…

He reaches up and grasps the mask with both hands. You hear a click as the mask separates into parts. He brings the mask over his head and finally looks up at you.

Fucking hell… he’s gorgeous.

You can’t think of the words to describe him. Your eyes bore into his dark eyes, framed by long, beautiful black lashes.

You’ve seen him command the First Order to destroy villages and whole planets, seen him kill innocents in cold blood.

How does he look so innocent?

Images of him looking up at you from between your thighs flash across your mind. You take him in fully. Eyes scanning down to his full, pink lips, making a note of all the freckles that adorn his skin. You want to feel those lips everywhere on your body; licking, biting, sucking.

His hair…

So much longer than you had initially anticipated. Stars, to be able to weave your hands through his soft, black waves. You imagine what sounds he might make if you accidentally happened to tug on his hair.

You aren’t aware of how long you’ve been gawking at him, until he interrupts your vulgar thoughts.

“A deal is a deal y/n,” he sounds cocky.

Without moving your gaze, you let your thighs fall apart. You watch his eyes fall to your simple cotton underwear.

“Hmm…” he says, pleased. “I guess you’re excited to see me.”

You know what he’s referring to, you could feel the wet patch on your underwear growing in response to him.

“Your hands… rub yourself through your underwear.” How he manages to keep his voice so calm, you don’t know.

You feel your hands at your hips, slowly descending to your underwear. You rest one hand on your inner thigh as the other travels over the soft texture of the cotton, until your fingers barely caress your clit.

How am I so sensitive? this is going to be a long night…

A breathy sigh escapes your lips, hoping it didn’t make it to Kylo’s ears. The slight upturn of the corner of his lip says otherwise.

“Keep going,” he guides you. His voice sounding as if it was right beside your ear.

You slide your hand down further and slowly bring your fingers back up, spreading the wetness over your clit, over your underwear. You let your eyes fall close as you apply slight pressure, ready to get lost in that familiar high.

“Stop,” your eyes snap open.

No, Kylo…

“Glide your hands over your stomach… and your breasts,” you notice how his eyes have brightened.

You do as he says. The soft fabric of your shirt bunches up as you painstakingly drag your palms over your stomach. Goosebumps raising on your lower stomach as the skin is exposed to the cool air. Your hands travel to your sides, using your nails to apply gentle pressure to the skin as a chill travels down your spine. You bypass your breasts, deciding to slide your palms down your sternum to your stomach. Fingers hook onto the waistband of your underwear; you pull slightly, and the silence of the room is broken as the elastic slaps back against your skin. You roll your hips slowly, using a single finger to draw patterns on your skin as you slowly approach your breasts. Thighs rubbing together, you draw circles over your soft nipples. Looking back at Kylo as they come to attention underneath the flimsy garment.

He swallows, eyes completely trained on your writhing body in front of him.

You crane your neck and move it to the side while slowly allowing your eyes to close. Your hands naturally find their way to your breasts, squeezing roughly, as he would. You massage them, whimpers escaping your mouth as your back arches off the sheets beneath you.

��Squeeze your nipples y/n,” you’re pleased that he doesn’t sound completely unfazed by your little show.

You pinch your nipples roughly and pull, letting them spring back, more erect than before.

Let’s take some creative liberties…

One hand remains at your breast, toying with your nipples. While the other slowly travels downs your torso, coming to rest just above your clit.

“May I?” you ask with a soft voice, feigning innocence.

He simply nods as shifts in the chair.

You begin to rub tight circles around your clit, and you feel the waves of pleasure starting to rock through your body. Your movements become quicker as your eyes screw shut and your mouth falls open.  

“Oh god… yes,” you breathe out, unable to keep quiet.

Hips bucking in sync with your fingers, your mind races as your body chases the high.

So close…

“Stop,” he interrupts. You had half a mind to just keep going, but you wanted to play his game. You pry your hands away as frustration clearly shows on your face.

He chuckles lowly, “don’t worry, I’ll get you there soon enough.”

You watch him as his hands rest suspiciously close to his member, you look up at him. Daring him to join you.

He waits a few moments, and you feel the waves of pleasure ebb away in your body.

“Again,” he orders. “Just like before… caress your body.”

Why is he doing this?!

You huff as your hands move down to your thighs this time, hands running over the goose bumps raised on your smooth flesh. Slowly moving up…

You don’t know how long it’s been. You don’t know how many times he’s brought you to the edge only to roughly tear you back from it. You’re dripping, the wet patch of your underwear dripping down into the sheets underneath you. You feel it rubbing against your folds, slick and ready. Not for your fingers, for the man sitting in front of you. For the man palming his growing erection through his pants.

“Good girl…,” You don’t know how much more you can take. “Again.”

How long was he planning on doing this? Is he ever actually going to let me cum?!

You feel as if you have no strength in your body, your body ready to melt into the sheets.

No y/n… you must play his game. Let him know he isn’t the one with all the power.

You cease the movement of your hands. Digging your palms into the mattress, you lift yourself up into a sitting position, realizing your back is slick with sweat. You breathe hard as tendrils of your hair stick to your forehead.

“Enough,” you strain. You revel in the confused expression plastered over his pronounced features. “You’re not the only one with power here, Kylo.”

You ungraciously throw your legs over the side of the bed and stand up on shaky legs. You sway your hips and saunter over to him. The apex of your thighs coated in your wetness. You want to so badly straddle his muscular legs, to feel him inside of you, hear his groans against your ear as he loses control.

No… you can’t let him win.

You place yourself in the space between your bed and him. He looks up at you; waiting, aroused, excited. You notice that the bulge in his trousers is more pronounced at this closer view. You turn sharply on your heels, so that your back is turned to him.

You take a deep breath in and hook your shaky fingers to the waistband of your underwear and peel them down your legs, making sure to keep your legs straight and back arched. Your shirt rides up to give him a perfect view of what he will be missing. The underwear pools at your bare feet. You step out of it, reaching to hook it onto your index finger.

You wish you could take a picture of him when you turned around. Brows furrowed, mouth agape, eyes trained on your dripping core. He could smell your scent too, you certainly could.

You hold the black fabric in front of his face as he finally peels his eyes way from your core. You raise an eyebrow, expectantly.

He brings a hand to lightly grasp the wet piece of cotton.

“Think of this as a souvenir, Ren.” You cheer in your head at your victory. You make your way to the armoire at the side of the bed.

You swing the doors open as you dig through the drawer looking for…

Perfect… time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You grab what you need and close the doors, making your way back to the bed. You’re glad to see he’s still in his position, body locked into place.

You resume your position; your forearms holding you up, legs spread as your wetness shines in the light, his view now unobstructed. You knew that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t leave.

You bring up the object and examine it. His eyes dart to your hands, realizing what you were about to do.

You bring the toy to your mouth. He hungrily licks his lips as you give a coy smile. You start to kiss the head of it, and move down to the shaft, flattening your tongue and licking a stripe along the underside. All the while keeping your eyes trained on Kylo’s face, he looks hypnotized by your actions. You make sure the toy is wet enough, not like it mattered.

You lay back, propping yourself up on one elbow to make sure he could watch your face as you took yourself over the edge, finally. You slide the toys head along your folds, using it to part them open. You watch his eyes as you push the toy slowly inside of you, a moan catches in your throat. Your walls stretch as you enter it further into your core until it sits snug inside of you. You circle the toy inside of you, to make sure Kylo gets an excellent look at the juices coating the silicone toy.

You start to move it in and out, faster than you would have liked to, but you’ve waited long enough. The pressure starts to build quickly, within minutes.

“Oh… Kylo,” his eyes are wild, clearly regretting the games he played prior. “Faster… please Kylo.”

You fall back on the bed as you thrust the toy at an increasing pace, the pain of it budging against your cervix the perfect counterpart to the immense pleasure you feel building in your body.

“Ahh! Yes... Please don’t stop…,” nonsense pours from your lips as your mind numbs. “Keep going… please.”

“Y/N…,” he sounds almost encouraging.

Hips bucking wildly, your free hand comes to your breast, squeezing and massaging as roughly as you could. As roughly as he would.

Just a few more…

You pace is unrelenting, eagerly chasing the high.  

You feel a slight scream leave your lips as it finally washes over you… after hours of torture at Kylo’s hand.

You turn your head and bite the pillow as you keep thrusting the toy inside of you, wanting to ride out your high for as long as possible.

You finally slow the movements of your hands. Your sex feeling swollen and well fucked. You bask in the aftershocks as your body comes down, shaking and spasming slightly. You try to close your thighs as you bring up your hand to your face, wiping the sweat from your brow.

As you struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows, you share a long look with Kylo. His jaw tight, knuckles white from clenching the arm of the chair while he roughly continues to palm his growing bulge through his trousers. You bring your eyes down to your core as you slowly retract the toy.

Holy shit…

Covered in your wetness and white, slick liquid. You have an ounce of shyness before you push it aside. You use every bit of strength you can muster to push yourself up from the bed. You walk over to him, with the toy in hand. No strength left in your body to be graceful.

“Would you like a taste, Kylo?” He looks up at you with those big dark eyes, black curls framing his features, as his plump lips part slightly.

“Yes,” the softest you’ve ever heard him speak.

You gather some of the wetness on your thumb and bring it to his awaiting lips, he cradles your wrist as he wraps his lips around your thumb. You feel his warm tongue snake around your digit, licking up all you had to offer. Releasing your clean thumb with a pop, you outline his lips with a feather light touch. How badly you want to feel those lips on yours, moving together perfectly.

You give him one last look and left for the washroom.

                                                       **** 

You wash and sanitize the toy as well as your sweat slick body. You allow your muscles to relax in the steam. Smiling, you re-live what it felt like to have Kylo’s lips wrapped around your finger.

You walk out of the washroom, perfectly content and ready to fall into a deep slumber and deal with the consequences of your little show later.

“How do you feel y/n?” His voice breaks somewhat startles you.

 “Oh… I thought you had left,” you stuttered. What was he still doing here?  “I feel…satiated.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

No thanks to you, Kylo.

You proceed with your normal routine, as you walk past him to the armoire and reach for the lavender lotion. You prop your leg up on the bed and lather your legs in the sweet-smelling lotion.

“Need some help?” It wasn’t a question as he’s already walking over to you. You notice he had taken off his cloak and robe, leaving him only in his black trousers and simple shirt.  You were wrong when you thought he was well built before.

He stands behind you and reaches for the tub of lotion from you.

He harshly tugs the towel away; you stand completely naked in front of him as you feel your body heat up.

Wordlessly, he slathers the lotion on his hands, and you feel his large hands at your hips. You look forward, unable to move or say anything. So eager to feel his hands before, and now your body overwhelmed with the sensation. He squeezes your hips roughly, giving your ass light smack before moving up your back. You could feel his hot breath fanning over your shoulder as he had lowered his head to your ear.

“You disobeyed my orders, girl.”

Fuck.

His hands snake around your ribs and hold your breasts, instinctively you lean back into his chest. Giving them a rough squeeze, he twists your nipples, calling them to attention.  You whimper as the skin starts to bruise.

His hands travel down your arms, gently grazing your skin. You were too distracted by his touches to notice him wrapping his hands tightly against your wrists. He pulls them behind you and pushes them into your back, forcing your chest forward and pushing your breasts forward. Your knees hit the bed and soon after you fall onto the bed. Kylo repositions you with your hands still held behind your back, so that your face was pressed against the still damp sheets. Your ass high in the air, to do with as he pleased.

“When you disobey my orders,” he whispers in your ear as your entire body trembles with anticipation. “You get punished.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 121

Insert Winter Holiday is here, again!

I’m queuing this ahead of time, and I originally had a really cute message about the end of the year. Then, I realized what year this is and said “Yeah, nope. Not jinxing it, will not have the actual end of the world be my fault.”

I am going to leave it at this: thank you to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog for all your help with this story in 2020. Thank you to every single one of you who bombed by notes this year when you found The Miys. Thank you @janeshadow for talking me into getting off my rump and making the story easier to navigate.

Standing to my feet after putting the last dish in the oven, I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around my quarters. Despite the fact that we had forgone a tree this year for Insert Winter Holiday, there was a definite festive feeling as everyone packed themselves in as much as possible. Derek had clearly found my lights again, as they circled every public space in my quarters, including the kitchen.  Furniture was pushed as far against the walls as possible, and everyone had been advised to bring their own cushion to sit on.

In the two celebrations since waking up on the Ark, dinner and gifts had largely been a smaller, more typical dinner-style affair.  However, without my noticing, my family had grown exponentially since then, and this year finger foods passed from hand to hand as everyone relaxed and chatted. Charly, Tyche, and I took turns in the kitchen, with Hannah waving us all three to sit while she checked on something in the oven so that we could rest and enjoy ourselves, too.

“Where’s Derek?” Charly asked as she approached me to take her shift watching the last batch of food bake.

“He isn’t great with crowds, so he and Sam already came for lunch and to exchange gifts,” I explained, stroking the scarf they had given me. “They already left and took Mac with them.”

“Aww, they’re hogging the Christmas Cat… No fair!” she pouted comically.

“Eh, Mac’s not a fan of crowds either. Besides, I’m pretty sure someone gave him cheese - again - so I’d rather the little gas bomb not be here tonight.”

“Fair enough,” she laughed before popping me with a tea towel. “Go! Your turn to socialize and cuddle!”

I held up my hands in defeat before carefully picking my way around people. Coffey was gracious enough to take my hand and guide me around him and over to where Conor and Maverick were guarding the astonishingly huge pile of gifts. Arthur was nearby, arguing with Conor and trying to drag Simon into it every chance he could. The topic sounded like a rehash of the one regarding fortifications, only this time it was Fortification Redux: The Plant Edition. “We’ve already confirmed there are no megafauna on Von!” Arthur exclaimed wearily. “Not even vegetarians. Why would we need fortifications?”

I could tell Conor was just provoking him when he lazily waved a hand. “It’s psychological, to make people feel safe. Besides, agriculturally, it serves as double duty.”

“He has a point,” Simon conceded, wincing when Arthur turned a playful squint his direction. “He does!”

“Whatever,” Arthur surrendered with a mock-sulk. “Sophia…”

“You know where I stand on this argument, don’t even try it,” I laughed as I dropped in between my partners.

“You wound me! I was going to offer to whip up some goulash, but now I don’t think I will since someone thinks she should accuse me of such atrocious crimes.”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Whip up whatever you want, I’m done with kitchen duty, and so is Tyche. Charly’s on her last lap.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Maverick laughed, catching Coffey’s careful eye on his beloved bundle of energy.

Arthur practically leapt to his feet. “That decides it. I am so offended by Sophia’s accusations that I am going to share the kitchen with Miss Chaos Incarnate and leave you all to wonder what wound up in the food.”

Tyche tipped her head back to scowl at him from where she was draped across Antoine’s lap. “If I find a single eyeball…”

Muttering something suspiciously close to “Dammit”, Arthur prowled across the room as though the entire floor wasn’t draped in legs and people.

I opened my mouth to whine about how he could do that, only to be cut off when a piece of pastry was stuffed in my mouth. Grievances forgotten, my eyebrows shot up as I chewed. “Tyche! When did you make donuts!?”

“It may have involved time travel,” she waggled her fingers at me. “But no blood magic or ritual sacrifices, swear.”

I could see Antoine shake his head before responding over his shoulder. “She made them this morning.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Travelling forward through time is still time travel, mon coeur.” He tapped the tip of her nose with one finger, eliciting an expression from her that promised swift and painful retribution.

A soft rustle of fabric caught my attention, and I turned to see a pile of purple and jade-green silk land beside me before a long, dark braid came into view. “The donuts are quite delightful,” Parvati declared as she yanked Xiomara down beside her in a graceless heap. Grabbing a dark brown one from the plate, she popped it in her lover’s mouth just as Xiomara was about to complain. “That one is a Black Forest, I believe. You’ll love it.”

“Careful on those,” Conor warned. “I think they’re half booze.”

“I only soaked the cherries in kirsch,” Tyche corrected. “Not the whole thing.”

“So yeah, half booze,” I corrected.

Giving her most fearsome scowl, Xio snatched the rest of the Black Forest donuts off the plate and balanced them in one hand.

A squeal of laughter interrupted our shenanigans, and we whipped our heads around in time to see Hannah holding a plate of mini-Wellingtons over her head without even looking, while Charly struggled to get up from where she was sprawled across both the other woman’s lap and Coffey’s.  Zach stared at Hannah like he just saw his first sunset, and Maverick snorted behind me.

“He is such a goner over her,” I heard him say, followed by a light smack.

“Because I have certainly never seen you look at Conor or Sophia in such a way,” Parvati added lightly. “And obviously not when Conor is baby-talking to the plants around the ship, or when Sophia is so busy working she will eat whatever is handed to her.”

He buried his face in the back of my hair before squeaking. “Nope. Never!”

I twisted around so I could see them both. “Wait. When did this happen?”

“Three times a week, in your office,” Tyche interjected in a bored tone. “And pretty religiously.”

I felt my face heat up. “Does everyone know about this except me.”

Xiomara nodded furiously, cheeks plumped out and a suspicious number of donuts missing from the pile in her hand. Parvati shook her head at the antics and smiled gently. “Someone needs to make sure you eat… He brings you gyoza, and you don’t even notice. It’s quite adorable.”

Conor laughed. “She’s got you there, love.”

Eyes flashed as four heads snapped around to him. “Oh, don’t think you’re off the hook, mister!” Charly scolded at him. “He does the same thing to you. Those little pasties you like so much, with the potato and onion.”

Maverick groaned his embarrassment into my shoulder, while Conor’s smile faltered. “I would remember that,” he insisted.

“Not even once,” Charly confirmed.

Rather than being embarrassed, Conor just laughed again and reached to drag us both over to him. “I don’t know how someone so tall can be so sneaky, but I won’t argue.”

That moment was when Arthur decided to return, a trail of slurps in his wake as he handed out goulash. “No eyeballs,” he sighed dejectedly as he handed one to Tyche.

“You guys are no fun,” Charly muttered as she took her own bowl.

Poor Simon eyed the offering hesitantly. Arthur gently wiggled the bowl at him. “I promise, you’ll like it.”

Carefully, as though it would explode at any moment, Simon took the dish and managed a small bite.  After a few seconds - presumably to confirm there was no trick - he chewed and immediately started bolting it down at a rapid pace. “I thought it would be spicier,” he admitted as he snaked a hand out to grab another.

“That would be the paprika.  Really red, not really spicy.”

Maverick laughed as he took a bowl, but poked it with his fork before wrinkling his nose. “Sorry, Arthur, not happening.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than Simon’s hand darted out again, eliciting laughter from everyone.

Arthur shrugged, well aware of Maverick’s food aversions by this point. “It’s not for everyone. You keep your tofu, I’ll keep my goulash.”

Not long after that, the last of the food was gone and dishes were cleared. Hot drinks were handed out by Zach and Conor, and then it was finally time to exchange gifts. Baked goods from Tyche made the rounds, along with beautiful accessories from Parvati, carefully curated books from Alistair, plants from Conor and Sam, and more.

At one point, Arthur was staring at his gift from Charly like it would bite him. “It’s… a pen?”

She nodded, producing a small jar of black ink from somewhere. “A fountain pen, with black India ink. I made them both myself.”

Arching an eyebrow, he brought the pen closer to examine the engravings. “An otter… with a sword?”

“With a saber,” she corrected. “I tried to make it look like yours, but do you know how hard you make it to get a good look at that thing!?”

“It’s literally on display in my office when I’m not practicing with it.”

“And how am I supposed to get in there when you aren’t? You booby-trapped the door!”

“Wonder why….” he mused with a small smile. “This is very intricate,” he finally admitted.

“Consider it an apology for the other ones.”

“Oh!” I realized.  “Give me just a second, everyone.”  Scrambling, and with nowhere near Arthur or Tyche’s grace, I managed to make it to our bedroom to grab an armful of boxes. Once I was back at the doorway, I peeked around the stack and smiled. “These are from Derek, with a little bit of help from Hannah.”  Checking names, I distributed the boxes before making my way back to my spot.

“This is… It’s so soft!” Parvati exclaimed. “And the colors are beautiful!”

I smiled as I rubbed the scarf I wore. “He wanted to show his appreciation for how welcome he feels, even if he was overwhelmed at the idea of being here.”

Hannah nodded as she brushed her scarf against her cheek. “We worked on these for months, but I didn’t realize he found time to make one for me… All the colors and patterns are different for each person, by the way. They’re meant to show us how he thinks of us.”

Conor held up the green and orange fabric that his box revealed. “I love it, but I’m confused.”

She rolled her eyes, and tapped her own scarf. “This goldish-brown is my eyes, and this olive green are the clothes I usually wear.”

Coffey’s laughter rang through the room as he unfolded his to see a pattern like Neapolitan ice cream: Rich brown, bright pink, with white swirled throughout. “I think he nailed it.”

Antoine’s head tilted until it almost met his shoulder. “Our eyes… Every single scarf has the color of our eyes in it.  That must have been so hard for him to do.” I could see what he meant - Derek did not look people in the eyes, as a rule.

“He wants us to know that he sees us, and that he likes that we see him,” Zach shrugged. When we all stared at him, he just blinked. “What? You don’t work with him as much as I do without figuring those things out.”

Without exception, everyone wrapped their gifts from Derek around themselves before the next set of gifts were handed out. “These are from me,” Arthur explained. “Hopefully I got it right.”

Like Alistair, Arthur had gifted everyone a book, but rather than a book that furthered a current interest, he had sought out historical insights into extremely niche topics for everyone. Some made pretty obvious sense - a book on the historical events leading to and the impacts of the Harlem Renaissance for me, a book on the evolution of law in various cultures for Xiomara - but some were far less obvious.

“A book on Roman law?” Charly asked, confused.

He reached over and tapped on the cover. “Specifically, this is about how much of Roman law was the result of litigation, with some pretty hysterical results. I think you’ll get a huge kick out of it.”

She cracked the book open to a random page and looked at it. “If you weren’t home when you were subpoenaed as a witness, you didn’t have to testify, but if you didn’t the person could stand outside your house and - “ she snorted before continuing in a fit of giggles. “Yell at you… for no more than three…. Three hours a day, three days a week - “ another snort “for up to a year!” She wiped a tear from her eye and surrendered to her giggles. “Oh that’s amazing! Thank you!”

Charly wasn’t the only one laughing. Even Xiomara was snickering. “That is an incredibly specific law.”

“Absurd laws are best laws,” he shrugged.

Eventually, all the gifts were distributed, but nobody was in a rush to leave. Instead, we lounged around, quietly catching up and talking about our plans for the upcoming ‘year’. At some point, Insert Winter Holiday had, unanimously and without fanfare, become the end of the year celebration on the Ark, even as far as the Council made plans. With that in mind, we were taking a chance to celebrate our continued survival for yet another cycle, and tried to look forward with optimism toward the next one.

I just let the feelings sink into me, enjoying the presence of the people who moved into my life.  Had I been asked fifteen years ago where I saw myself in the future, ‘on a spaceship, as the last of the human race, about to colonize another world’ would have been nowhere on that list.  But here I was, with a larger family than I had ever dreamed.

Despite all that we had been through, I couldn’t wait to see what the future would bring.

 (A/N: Keep your eyes out for an announcement on New Year’s Eve!)

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[miralia]

Speculation on the Historical Influences on the Kyoshi Warriors of Avatar

(Disclaimer: I know there are multiple influences. This is just something I found that I thought was really interesting. And we’re not going to get into how ATLA appropriated, appreciated, and cherry-picked Asian cultures. This is just a fun thing I found out. It might just be a coincidence. If you wanted an essay on “how terrible Bryke is”, go under the “anti bryke” tag and laugh at the toxicity. This is about history.)

I don’t know if this has been done already, but I was really excited when I found out, so I had to share!

So, I’m not quite sure how I found this out, but I think I was both off-and-on researching premodern combat weapons of different cultures (link here if you want to spend a few hours ogling swords and daggers) and trying to figure out what kinds of cultural things influenced the Kyoshi Warriors. I figured out (at least I’m pretty sure I did, sword experts feel free to correct me) that they do, in fact, wield the Japanese katana (I don’t know which period. Not trying to lump anything together, just thought it was best to refer to it as a collective for fear of being wrong). This was kind of odd to me, as the Earth Kingdom appeared to have *mainly* Tang and Qing dynasty influences. So I decided to dig a little deeper on this subject.

(SECOND Disclaimer: People more well-versed in the different parts of Asian culture I will be referencing can tell me I’m wrong in the comments and I’ll edit this. I really and truly am not trying to be offensive or say my opinion is correct blindly, but at the same time, I did do my research and that has to count for something.)

Introduction

I’m an ATLA nut, as well as an Asian women’s dress nut. I’ve made connections between real clothing and ATLA clothing before, but then realized that other people had already done it, and done it much better. 

But I haven’t seen anyone really talk about the inspiration behind the Kyoshi Warriors yet, besides a few mentions, so here I am with my two cents!

The First Thing (Swords)

The first thing I noticed that started me on this quest was realizing that the Kyoshi Warriors wield katanas (also called nihonto), as opposed to a Chinese weapon that would be more fitting for their position in the Earth kingdom (like we see with Jet’s hook swords). 

For clarification, I figured this out by using still frames of Suki from the show, then measuring the rough length of her sword to her height, approximating the length to see if it would be correct (it was). Then I watched the video of the Kyoshi Warriors’ fight with Team Azula, which is (if I’m not mistaken) the only time we actually see them use their swords as well as their fans. 

In a few frames, we can see Suki’s sword has the characteristic tsuka ito (cord wrap) around the hilt of her sword, a gold-colored habaki (blade collar), as well as a golden kashira (butt cap/pommel), paired with a golden fuchi (a band at the end of the handle before the tsuba (guard)) to make a fuchigashira. From what I can gather, these are usually intricately decorated, but we can blame early 2000s animation for exempting that detail.

But anyway, the presence of the katana got me thinking. What other Japanese influences are displayed in the Kyoshi Warriors?

(Actually, scratch that. The first thing that got me clued in to the presence of Japanese influence was the red and white makeup that the Warriors wear. It seemed similar to that of the geisha, but I disregarded this as it wasn’t similar enough to warrant real research on my part. Just google ‘geisha makeup’ and you’ll see what I mean.)

And the answer was: a good few. Something Mina Le (a fashion youtuber) already touched on in her video on Avatar. But the question is, what exactly influenced them?

So, back to katanas. Once I figured out that they wielded katanas, it was a simple conclusion that they drew inspiration from the samurai of feudal Japan.

War Fans (Tessen)

Another similarity that ties them into samurai are their characteristic fans.

I actually learned about the art of Japanese war fans (tessenjutsu) before I even watched Avatar. The fans called tessen are made out of iron, but the other types of war fans, gunsen and gunbai, don’t seem to fit the bill for what the Kyoshi Warriors use them for. So, instead of being made of iron, their fans are made out of a golden metal, probably to fit their gold-and-green aesthetic.

An illustration of a warrior using a tessen.

The way they use these tessen to fight is debatably accurate. I have never studied tessenjutsu, nor do I really trust modern videos of tessenjutsu, so I have no basis. But it is said that wielders would use one to attack and one to parry, and that does seem to be somewhat what they do? Not sure if their forms or usage or that one time that one girl threw both her fans at Azula like some sort of razor-sharp Frisbee is accurate. Tessenjutsu practitioners, feel free to correct me!

But all this talk about fans and swords isn’t coming to the real core of my speculation. There is one crucial fact: samurai are men. But the Kyoshi Warriors are girls. Were there any female samurai?

The Onna-Bugeisha

Yes, there were! They were called onna-bugeisha, literally meaning “female martial artist.” You can read more about the onna-bugeisha on their Wikipedia page.

Let’s start with the similarities between the Kyoshi Warriors and the onna-bugeisha. 

Clothing/Armor

The first, and most obvious, is their clothing. The onna-bugeisha appear to wear both the traditional kimono or large, loose pants in illustrations. This really does seem to differ a lot based on source material, and I’m not knowledgeable enough to really affirmatively say why. But they do appear wearing the pants when riding horses, and the kimono when they’re standing or looking super regal in the illustrations.

Empress Jingū, a mythological example of onna-bugeisha. She became empress after her husband, the fourteenth emperor Chūai, was slain in battle. She is said to have led an expedition to Korea around 200 AD, and was the first woman on a Japanese banknote. This illustration is probably not accurate, as it was made by a European man, but it does illustrate one of the earliest known cases of onna-bugeisha in Japanese culture.

Hangaku Gozen, a famous general of the Genpei War (allied with the Taira clan).

The Kyoshi Warriors!

Bryke/the animators chose the dress route for making the Kyoshi Warriors, dressing them in split-front dresses colored in shades of green, with a dark green layered underdress under a lighter green overdress crossed left over right at the collar (like many, many different kinds of traditional Asian women’s dress). The coloration appears to be more to signify “Earth Kingdom” than to be historically accurate to the onna-bugeisha, something that was probably a good idea. Remember, this was made to be a kids’ adventure show, and they had already established the color-coding based on country. 

The sleeves are voluminous, which is definitely a characteristic of the onna-bugeisha. They are cinched at the wrists with dark cuffs, which isn’t a characteristic of all the different illustrations/photographs, but is certainly present in some. These cuffs are paired with two-toned gloves, which are always a good idea in any kind of weapon battle, but aren’t present in many, if any, photographs, but at least in some illustrations.

Partially covering the dresses is the thing that most tipped me off: the armor. It seems to be of black plating, which bears a striking resemblance to the plating/ridging on the onna-bugeisha’s armor. The chestplate itself bears a really, really close resemblance (if it isn’t an exact copy) to the chestplates of the onna-bugeisha, though the color isn’t the striking red that seems to appear a lot of the time. The rectangular shoulder/upper arm plating that is present in nearly all depictions is severely lacking, however, though this seems to be a choice to make the Warriors seem less bulky and more dynamic. Plus, it would be easier to animate. (They do have slimmer shoulder plates that attach, though.)

But the (for lack of a better word) skirt plates of the armor remain really, really similar to the onna-bugeishas’ armor. It really just looks like a scaled-down, black instead of red version. And I think that’s super cool, and one of the best pieces of evidence that backs my theory.

Topping off the “Kyoshi look” are gold-and-green headpieces that are different depending on the warrior, and a hairstyle that differs depending on the warrior. I’ll probably go more in-depth about the headpieces and hairstyles on a different post, but the gist is that yes, the presence of headpieces is historically accurate, at least in some photos/illustrations (which appears to be the norm. Can I ever get something concrete here?). 

Examples of onna-bugeisha wearing headpieces.

All of them wore helmets (obviously), but some seem to have some sort of decorative aspect (again, tell me if I’m wrong and the pieces have a meaning or purpose). 

Edit: One commenter, @atla-headcanons​, said that their Japanese grandmother once said that warriors’ headdresses were status symbols, as well as ways to tell allies from enemies. This would be supported by the fact that Suki, as the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, would have a headpiece similar to Kyoshi’s, and the rest of the Warriors would have different ones. I was unable to fact-check this at the time (may return to it later), but it seems likely, and it would be really cool if it was intentional on the characters’ designs!

Avatar Kyoshi 

The second thing that made me speculate whether the Kyoshi Warriors were connected to the onna-bugeisha was actually Kyoshi herself.

We all know about badass Avatar Kyoshi. She’s amazing. A definite certified badass. But there might actually have been a real-world counterpart to her. Nakano Takeko, a famous onna-bugeisha of the Aizu Domain who fought and died in the Boshin War, could have been possible inspiration for her.

Statue of Nakano Takeko. I don’t trust that the pictures on Pinterest are actually her.

Not only is Nakano a certified badass, taking down five to six men with her naginata in the Battle of Aizu, she also taught women and children to fight with the naginata for a time. Sound familiar? It might just be a coincidence, but I’m sticking to my theory here. You can read more about her here, but I’ll give a rundown of the highlights that make her a Kyoshi-Level Badass™:

- Taught naginata to the lord of Niwase’s wife

- Taught naginata to women and children in Aizuwakamatsu castle

An onna-bugeisha wielding a naginata. They’re pretty awesome!

-  Worked in defense of the shōgun Tokugawa Yoshinobu

- Fought in the Battle of Aizu using a Japanese weapon (naginata) against a white weapon (guns)

- Created and headed an ad-hoc group of female warriors in the Battle of Aizu, retroactively called the Jōshitai (Girls’ Army). She did this without permission, as the senior Aizu retainers didn’t want them to fight and wouldn’t let them fight as an official part of the domain’s army

- When she was taken down by a rifle shot to her chest, she asked her sister Yūko to behead her so that the enemy couldn’t take it as a trophy. Her sister employed the help of Ueno Yoshisaburō, and did as she was asked

- With the reforms of the Meiji Era (samurai class abolished, western-style army established), Nakano Takeko was one of the last samurai in history.

Conclusion

That concludes my essay! Remember, this is all speculation. If you have your own take, please tell me! I love hearing all the cultural influences in Avatar.

Now, if Bryke meant to make the Kyoshi Warriors to be inspired by the onna-bugeisha, then there is something more that I would have liked to see. It would have been really cool to see them use naginata in the show, as it was actually originally a weapon for females to use, its length compensating for the smaller body size and comparatively lesser brute strength of women warriors.

(Also, I just want Suki utterly destroying Sokka with a naginata in that episode where she kicks his butt to prove a point. Hey, I’m a simple girl with simple tastes.) 

Sources:

Basically all Wikipedia. I’m sorry I couldn’t reference, like, ebooks on this subject. But I did look at the reference lists for the Wikipedia articles I used, and they all seemed to be credible ones. So, don’t come at me, please! I did the best I could!

I really appreciate whoever read this far. It takes stamina! 

Thanks for reading!

[op-peccatori]

Anthesis | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Hades!Victor/Persephone|Kore!Reader

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your ambition takes you down a path few would prefer to take, to the world where the dead go to rest. But in a place where you expect to find only darkness, you’re surprised to find so much more.

A/N: Better late than never? Happy (belated) Birthday, Victor! Ily. This was supposed to be up on his birthday but, well, I had zero motivation to write at the time lmao. Please keep in mind that this is mostly inspired from alternate versions of the Hades/Persephone tale, and not the original. These are pretty much my own versions of them.

(tags under the cut)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, virgin mc, vaginal sex, oral sex, a sad mix of formal and informal language, no abductions here folks, I’ll edit later just take this away from me

Violets and crocuses wiggle in delight and part as the grass, eager to cushion your stride, nearly presses up against your feet. Roughened bark meets smooth skin as your hands brace against it, the tree nearly twisting around you to shelter you as you peek around it; the leaves murmur to themselves, wondering what you're up to. 

You shush the leaves and pat the tree into compliance with haste, lest they give your position away. Another glance at your target shows no change. You have to wonder—does he really not know you're spying, or are you just being ignored? Pushing the question aside, for now, you hurry along after him. Your patience and labour are rewarded when you follow him into a meadow, where his ride awaits him. 

A gilded chariot, drawn by four of the most beautifully frightening beasts you have ever seen. Helios had been right; their tales don't do them justice. The same, however, can be said for their rider, who now greets them with gentle strokes upon their heads, the menacing horses whinnying and bowing their heads, competing for just a smidge more attention. The flowers stir with curiosity and terror, knowing these beings belong to another place, one where they would struggle to survive.

"Why have you come?" 

It takes you a moment to realize he's addressing you. You've heard it a few times now, yet the deep baritone sends a thrill down your spine. He does not speak with the condescension you're subjected to so often, and neither does he attempt to seduce you into his bed. All he asks is a simple question, his back to you, his hand stilling where it was stroking. 

"I wanted to see your chariot," you answer easily, stepping forward into the clearing so the moonlight can wash over you. His hair falls down his back in a river of ebony, his statuesque form clad in intricate armour of the darkest black so unlike the ones you see on the surface. He, in all his menacing glory, is so unlike anybody you’ve ever met. 

"You've seen it." He still doesn't face you, and you're startled to realize you're clenching your fist, uncurling it and flexing it nervously. "Run along now, little goddess." 

His words are harsh in their very nature and yet you brush them off, something about his tone striking you as odd. You step closer, and though he doesn't move, he stiffens further. 

"I'm Kore." The warm breeze in the air greets you softly, rustling your hair affectionately as it passes. "But you can call me ___." 

He says nothing, turning to step onto the chariot. He doesn't look at you, but you can see a side of his face now. It grates on you, how aloof he looks. How they avoid him. How every time you ask your mother to visit his domain, you're turned down. 

"Goodbye, Hades!" you call after him, satisfaction squeezing your gut when, as his chariot descends into the chasm, he's startled into looking at you. For a long moment, it seems as if time has stopped. Eyes that seem opalescent at this distance, flecks of blue and violet in that grey grey storm locking with your own. You're overcome by the urge to follow, and you nearly do, were it not for the hyacinths twisting around your feet in their alarm. 

The moment is broken as he disappears, the earth closing back in seamlessly in the aftermath of his departure. You can't quite look away, despite knowing it's unlikely he'll be back. It'll be a while before you see him again, as he rarely leaves his domain. You know you're young, younger in comparison to these older gods but the impatience you feel still catches you off guard. You don't know how much longer you can keep playing this long game, especially now that it seems like you're the only player on the board.

"___?" Distant voices call for you, prompting a deep sigh. Your mother is probably looking for you, and even as you turn to leave, you resist the urge to glance back until you're deep within the woods once more.

There is something you want. It's terrifying and it's exhilarating—it probably won't end well. But for the first time in your life, you want something badly enough to defy all odds and your mother. It's been slow to bloom, starting off as a sapling that has now spread its branches throughout your being, spreading sheer want in their wake. All you need is a plan. And so, it is with eyes shining with hope that you rush to your mother where she reads by a fountain, taking a seat next to her.

"Mother, may I invite Helios over? It's been some time since I saw him," you ask in the politest tone in your arsenal, batting your lashes and clasping your hands together. To nobody's surprise, she agrees. 

"But you stay where I can reach you," she says sternly, cupping your cheek when you purse your lips. "We can't have anyone getting any ideas, hm?"

"Yes, mother."

Helios arrives in a golden chariot of his own, his ivory-winged horses gliding to a stop where you wait in the meadow. His windblown, flaxen hair tumbles over his shoulders, and the honest blue eyes and cheery grin are a welcome sight—beautiful, but one that doesn't quite shake you, doesn't possess you with the impulse to stumble after it.

You don't speak of it right away. Instead, you offer up sweet wine and weave flower crowns as he shares all the gossip in the realm; some are things Aphrodite really will kill him for one day. As always, one name is conspicuously missing from his lively tales of love and debauchery, and that's the one you finally bring up as you adjust the wreath over his head.

"Hades? He rarely leaves his realm, I don't think he's one to indulge himself that often. I don't know how he does it," he muses. Kiro, as you're allowed to call him, eyes you speculatively. This isn't the first time you've asked after the reticent god, and he knows you too well to think your inquiries are innocent in nature. "Oh, just tell me." 

You look around the clearing, ensuring that none of your mother's agents are around. The trees would tell you if they were, but years of dodging them have taught you better. 

"I want to visit the Underworld," you confess, unable to help the smile that steals over your mouth when his mouth drops open. This is the first time you've said it aloud, and doing so only cements the desire further. Kiro groans, half despair and half lament, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I regret this visit already."

"I know you know how to do it." You cross your arms over your chest, your chin jutting out in a way that makes him sigh.

"There's a reason why nobody goes there, you know."

"It isn't forbidden."

"Your mother will destroy us both." She will, but with any hope, you'll be far away when she figures it out.

"Kiro, please?"

"Argh, fine! There's only one way for the living to pass through safely; you'll need a gift for the ferryman."

You pester him until he tells you what might be suitable, until you're certain you have just the thing in mind, flopping onto your back once you know everything you need to. You study the vast expanse of the sky, awash in strokes of pinks and orange, wondering if you'll get to see it once your plan is in motion. 

"He really caught your eye, didn't he?" Kiro muses as he lays down beside you. "Demeter will throw a fit."

"Hm. Something like that. And mother can throw all the fits she wants to. This is a decision I've made for myself." 

"Have you ever even spoken to him?" You can't quite bring yourself to look at him, giving it away and his next words are incredulous. "You haven't! That's why you aren't going through the usual channels! I thought it was just because of Demeter—"

"It is!" you insist, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"But you don't want H-Him to know either." 

"...not right away, no," you mumble, continuing before he can panic. "Only because he wouldn't agree to let me visit!" 

Kiro can't argue with that. "I don't know what you're thinking, just—don't irk him." That's just one of the many things you shouldn't, the first step of your operation being at the very top. 

Slipping out of your mother's grasp isn't easy; her watchful gaze, as you murmur promises of being careful and wanting to visit forest nymphs, tells you she knows you aren't being entirely truthful. But you're aware that she will chalk it up to you playing your silly games. 

Oh, you are. This is a game you want to win. The stakes are just higher this time. 

Helios agrees to fly you down to the ocean, flying you across it as if he's afraid Demeter is right behind you. It feels surreal as you finally stand at the entrance to the cavern, your form shrouded by a cloak of thick velvet with the hood drawn up. You hesitate, for just a moment. You might be sent back right away. Or, if you are successful, there will be no going back from this. 

As you close your eyes, memories of your mother pass through your mind. The good and the bad, the dreaded and the cherished. It transitions into a vivid memory of a battle you hadn't witnessed in person, but one that you had watched while you had been hidden away in one of your temples, a shallow pool of water reflecting the bloody battlefield so far away. 

It hadn't been the first time you had seen him, but it had stayed with you until the next time you saw him leaving Olympus. You had seen him obliterate the thieves attempting to steal away the souls in his custody with nary a blink, the cold fury in his eyes belying his smooth countenance. You had been thoughtful as you watched his chariot ascend from the gape of the earth, watched him greet the sable-black horses with a muted affection at complete odds with the ruthlessness he had displayed just minutes prior.

In that conflicting visage, you saw an opportunity. 

And so, you step through the threshold, your golden gift in hand. 

You weren't expecting it to be a pleasant journey, but the wailing and complaining souls you walk in line with are still unnerving. The silent ones even more so. They look human, just a little more opaque, almost glowing in the gloomy caves. They don't seem to realize you walk with them, which is admittedly a relief. You feel uneasy at the lack of life here, and not for the first time during your walk, you wonder if you can really do this.

There will be steep consequences, the world will change, you will change. You walk, and walk, and walk, and just as you begin to feel the frustration, you see it: the long stretch of water beyond the white sand you step onto, aglow with wisps of green light swimming beneath the surface. And on the boat that glides along the surface, coming to a halt as it reaches the shore, stands the ferryman.  You have to wait as the ones ahead of you climb onto the boat before you're face to face with him. Not an inch of him is visible, the cloak doing an excellent job to conceal whatever hides behind it. Still, you can feel him peer down at you. 

You brace yourself before slipping the hood back, inclining your head as you greet him. "Charon, I presume?" 

"You...are not supposed to be here." His voice seems to echo through the cavern, soft yet scattered as if it comes from all around you. 

"No, I'm not," you concede, before offering up the golden branch you had fashioned with painstaking care. "I did bring a gift." 

You can feel him studying you as if you are the strangest passenger he's come across before he holds out his hand for the bough. "I'll accept it. Welcome aboard, young goddess." 

"I didn't think you would let me pass so easily." You climb onto the boat, taking the seat right behind Charon. 

"As long as you do not cause trouble, young goddess, I don't see why I should not."  

The boat starts to move, needing no rowers, leaving behind the souls who will have to wait their turn. You're so preoccupied with examining the luminous water that it takes you a moment to realize Charon is looking at you. 

"Are you?" You blink. "Are you here to cause trouble?"

"I'm not here to cause trouble," you answer, your slight smile giving you away. 

"And yet, I do not think He will see it that way." He seems amused despite his words, and you're distracted from answering as you exit the cave, your gaze captured by the scenery. 

The air isn't stale. There are no skulls lining the shores. The river isn't filled with the blood of the dead, instead, it seems to be so pure it's glowing. You wonder why people are so fond of spreading false accounts of their experiences in the underworld. The sky, as you observe when you tilt your head back, is a blend of greys and purples with no sign of sunlight. You refrain from squirming in discomfort—you'll just have to get used to it, trade your bright skies for vaguely ominous ones. 

The shores on either side of the river are barren of anything but sand, and on one side you see a wall of obsidian rock that stretches along the shore as far as the eye can see. 

"How do I get to Hades' palace?" you ask in slight dismay, not fond of the thought of getting lost in this strange new realm.

"The boat will stop at the entrance to the realm," he murmurs. "From there, someone will come to get you." 

"Who?" 

"Someone from the palace, I suppose." He doesn't seem to be inclined to give you more answers, and you ease away with a quiet sigh, knowing he's done more than enough. 

True to his word, Charon's boat stops in front of what looks to be the only entrance to the realm. There are two enormous gates on either side of the opening in the wall, also carved with obsidian, unembellished but for the symbols etched into the surface. A closer look shows them to be sceptres, the symbol of the ruler of this realm.

You look back at Charon with a faint smile. "Thank you." 

"You need not thank me for doing my duty, young goddess." As the boat starts back down the river, his echoing laugh sends a frisson of unease through you. "I wish you luck." 

The 'you'll need it' goes unsaid but you hear it clearly enough. Well, you will need luck when the god finds out you're here, but hopefully, it'll be a while before that happens. 

A few steps towards the gates let you know you will need luck for a lot more. 

There is no sense of alarm from the souls who continue to pass through the gates as if they don't feel the way the air grows heavy. You feel the hot, panting breath at the back of your head first, followed by a low growl. Every inch of your being tenses in place and the first thought in your head is-

'I don't have power here.'

You turn around on wobbly legs, biting back a whimper when you see him. A massive beast you had only heard rumours of, rumours you really should have given more thought because now there are three heads growling at you.

"Oh, h-hello," you croak out. The heads tilt in unsettling unison, sniffing at you in confusion. "You must be Cerberus." 

He's nearly as big as the towering gates, with a glossy black coat and eyes that possess a red sheen. One of the heads, the one on the right, whines low in his throat and is immediately snapped at by the one on the left. Their teeth look to be nearly as big as your forearm, and you curse yourself for not bringing extra gifts. You hadn't thought to prepare too much for the trip, as you aren't a demigod on a quest. 

If you want to stay in this place, it would be wise to forge friendships with its residents.

"I'm Kore," you offer when they continue to stare at you as if unable to figure out what to make of you. And then, the head on the right seems to win out as he darts forward, butting your shoulder gently as your shriek dies in your throat. You can tell he had tried to be gentle, and still, it sends you sprawling on the sand. 

You all stare at each other in surprise. The startled looks on their faces drain them of any menace they had previously displayed; it makes you clutch your abdomen as you burst out laughing. The headbutting head whines slightly, taking a hesitant step forward, sniffing frantically as if to make sure you're in one piece. 

The hand you place on his snout is gentle, your touch soothing as you coo at him, reassuring the oddly concerned looking dog. You're still giggling as the heads tilt in confusion, still unsure, and nearly miss the sound of horses whinnying from a distance. Nearly, for it's impossible to miss the thundering of hooves as they reach the ground, and your heart rattles in its cage as Cerberus sits back on his haunches, his tail curling and wagging with delight. 

And why shouldn't it, when his master has come to greet them?

"Well, I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself." The icy words reach you before you've mustered the courage to look back at the chariot and its terrifying rider. Your fingers dig into the sand as you scramble to get ahold of the fortitude that had brought you here.

"Oh," is all you can say when you do turn around, for you're not expecting the casual attire. The armour is nowhere in sight, his body clad in flowing robes of red and gold, a sash tying them in place. His hair is free from its usual half-updo, flowing freely over his shoulders and back. 

You can't quite bring yourself to say another word, let alone give him the explanation you know he's waiting for. He raises a brow at you before scoffing, jumping off the small platform and striding towards you. Cerberus intercepts him before he can reach you, bounding forward to greet him with low whines escaping all three heads. He doesn't let Hades pass until every head has received an acceptable amount of head pats, giving you a moment to collect yourself. 

"Someone will come to get you," you repeat in a low mutter, fists clenching. "Charon, you evil, evil being."

"What was that?" A shadow falls over you, and you squint up at the god standing over you. Without the armour, however, he doesn't look as threatening as usual, though you won't be the one one to tell him that. You smile up at him brightly. 

"Nothing! Hello. Thank you for coming to get me," you say as if you hadn't sneaked into the realm and broken a few different rules. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds, before exhaling forcefully and holding his hand out. You can't deny the tremble in your chest when you take it, his hand pleasantly warm to the touch as he pulls you up. 

"Come, little goddess." Your fingers tighten around his hand and he drops yours as if it were dripping with the venom of a Hydra, turning on his heel and stalking back to his chariot, clearly expecting you to follow. 

You do so quietly, waving at the horses as they eye you, flexing your hand in an attempt to suppress the strange tingling. It doesn't work, and you try not to sigh as you climb onto the chariot next to him. You're here on a mission, and the warmth spreading over your cheeks is not helping in any way.

You're further embarrassed by the startled yelp that escapes you when the chariot takes off without warning, but it's forgotten when you feel a hand settle over the top of your head, pulling you closer to the body it's attached to until you're close enough to feel it's warmth. His warmth. 

"Try not to fall off," he chides, before seeming to realize that his hand is still on your head and pulling it away to rest it on the railing. The air whipping through your hair feels blessedly cool on your heated skin, and you focus on looking around instead. You pass by what looks to be a pavilion, wondering if it is what you think it is but not having the courage to ask when he's clearly irritated. All you can do is sneak glances. His hair whips around him, brushing against yours and you avert your eyes as he turns to glance at you in question.

Any excuse you might have come up with fades away when his palace looms into view. Sitting upon an island in the middle of a lake, the walls of obsidian stone matching the wall seem to give off their own strange glow. A cobblestone bridge connects the island to the rest of the land, a spiked portcullis standing in the way of whoever dares to visit. The four towers to each corner stand proud and high enough that you worry about running into them. 

The chariot circles the tower closest to you, flying lower with each lap until you arrive in a courtyard, stopping before the stables. A nervous-looking man in golden robes seems to have been waiting there, bowing as you both climb out of the chariot. 

"My Lord." He looks at you almost suspiciously. "Lady Kore."

"Hello." Hades steps into your path before you can continue. Why is it that you're unable to finish your sentences around this man?

"I will open the entrance to the surface, I think you've had enough adventures for this decade." 

Your what echoes, confusing you until you realise it had come from the other man.

"I did not come here to just leave," you argue hotly, squaring your shoulders when he glowers down at you. "This is not some silly adventure." 

"Oh? What would you call it?"

"I came here to ask you a few questions." And a few other things, but he doesn't need to know that just yet. "Surely you can grant me that much." You cross your arms, refusing to break eye contact until he grunts and looks at the...attendant?

"Prepare the guest wing for the lady." He turns back to you just as you open your mouth. "I have things to attend to, so I'm afraid your questions will have to wait. I assume you know the rule?" 

"The rule?" you repeat, trading glances with the other man, who nods in encouragement. "Yes?" You don't have a clue. 

He seems aware of that, leaning in until his hair falls forward in a silken curtain and your entire view is filled with thick lashes and stormy eyes. 

"Don't..." You're aware that you're staring at his mouth, but seem to have lost control over where your eyes stray. "...eat anything. Unless you want to be stuck here forever." 

"O-oh." You feel uncomfortably warm again, unable to meet the wicked glint of his eyes when he pulls back. "Yes, I knew that!" 

"Wonderful. We shouldn't have any problems then. Enjoy your stay, little goddess," he calls over his shoulder as he begins to walk away. "It'll be a short one."

And then there were two—left staring after the man who disappears behind a corner.

The attendant turns to you. "I'll show you to the guest wing, My Lady." 

"Thank you..." 

"Oh! My apologies," he leads you to what looks like a side entrance to the building. "You may call me Goldman." 

"Thank you, Goldman," you say warmly. 

As you step through the door, it begins to sink in. You're really here. You're doing this. How successfully, that has yet to be seen. But you have hope. 

"Please don't mention this to My Lord but," he leans in almost conspiratorially, his hair seeming to fluff up in his cheer. " I'm personally very glad to see you here."

"You are?" It certainly hadn't seemed that way earlier. 

"Yes, My Lord rarely gets visits from the Others. And if you're here for the reason I think you are," he grins at you. "Then I'm doubly glad!" 

You both come to a halt, just before stepping through the archway that leads to a long flight of stairs. The interior of the building is vastly different from its outward appearance, with its marble floors and gilded walls.

"How could you possibly know what I'm here for?" 

"My Lady, I make it my business to know as much as I can about My Lord's everyday affairs," he gestures for you to continue. "You must know. All of us here—we're rooting for you!"

Oh. 

"Yes, well," you laugh nervously, guilt trickling through your insides. "Thank you. I'll...I shall try my best."

The guest wing you're taken to looks completely out of place for something built in Hades' realm. The bedroom itself looks like one you would have designed yourself, with its sheer white curtains and plush rugs. Set in the middle of the room, the bed itself is orbicular with a sheer curtain enclosing it almost completely, with a parting in the middle to allow easy access. The walls here are white marble with speckles of gold, with a massive armoire resting against the one in the back of the room. 

Behind the bed is a shallow pool with steps built into the sides, but what surprises you the most is the tree that seems to be curling in towards the room through the balcony that has no doors, just wide arches. There is limited flora in this realm and you had already made your peace with it, but as you press your hand against the oddly smooth bark of the tree and feel it vibrate with delight, something tense unwinds in your chest.

"I'll let Him know you like it," Goldman calls from where he stands at the threshold, hands clasped in front of him. 

"It's lovely." You take a quick peek out the balcony, which shows you a lovely view of the glowing lake.

"Yes, well," he hesitates, shaking his head. "Ah, I shouldn't...I'll send someone in to attend to you." 

He hurries away before you can press for answers, leaving you to climb into bed with a huff. Your cloak is unfastened and thrown to the side, freeing your unruly tresses and limbs. Resting on your stomach, you feel silly as the loneliness creeps in. You miss your mother and the Naiads; you had, all your life up till now, been surrounded by the Nymphs' giggles and it pains you to think that you might never hear it again. 

But your melancholy is weak when faced with your ambition. If things go your way, this will be your new home and it is with that thought in mind that your eyes flutter shut as sleep crawls over you.

A glance at the mirror shows you, clad in a forest green dress that wraps around your body, and your hair braided back with golden twine. You leave your room with your attendants' instructions, heading straight for the throne room where Hades should be. They're pleasant enough creatures, but your heart still aches with longing. Kiki and Willow must be worried out of their minds; you had told no one of your plans, with only Helios aware of your whereabouts. 

Your path takes you along another winding bridge, chandeliers with softly glowing orbs lining the ceiling and the familiar green wisps darting beneath the lake. The sky above seems almost agitated, clouds of grey and violet swirling around each other restlessly. 

Strange though it may be, the Underworld is beautiful in its own way. How could it not be, when its ruler is the same?

He stands there now, peering down into the lake as if it holds answers to any questions he may have. You know the moment he registers your presence, his shoulders turning as if to leave before he aborts the movement and faces you. 

You should be afraid, you think, standing as you are across the bridge from one of the most feared gods in all the realms. And yet, your feet move on their own as if they can't help it, taking you to him. Your heart throbs with anticipation as you draw closer. He smells like smoke laced with magic, that drugs you with every breath you take, and you think you're a fool for being so relaxed in his presence. 

And yet he's the one looking at you so warily, as if you're the one to fear?

"Hades," you greet him evenly, watching curiously as his eyes dart down to your flowing dress before meeting your gaze. 

"Kore." 

"I told you, you can call me ___," you mutter. "I was told you have no other matters to attend to at the moment?"

"Hm." 

There’s no point in beating around the bush, it would only give him more chances to escape. 

"Lovely. So," you clasp your hands behind you, tilting your head to the side. You feel your hardened resolve waver when he only watches you carefully. "Why did you reject me?"

He seems to be at a loss for words, so you continue. 

"You thought I didn't know," you state, stepping closer to him. It annoys you that you have to look up at him, but a deeper part of you enjoys it, more so when he begins to look wary. "Oh, I know. About your proposal. Zeus agreed—and then you turned it down. Why?" 

He stares at you. "You came to ask me this?" 

"I did." 

"Wh-why?" He seems genuinely baffled, blinking when you narrow your eyes at him. "It doesn't matter-"

"Of course it matters!" you snap. He steps back as you step forward, and it continues step for step until his back is pressed to the wall beside the arch. It feels a bit silly, but you reach your hand out to rest it on the wall just over his shoulder, to make sure he can't slip away. "Am I that undesirable in your eyes?" 

The words burn in your chest but oddly enough, he seems to relax at that, his mouth twitching into a tiny smile. You're quite offended by how pretty it makes him look. "Kore, that's not the case at all. You're beautiful-"

"Do not patronize me."

"I'm not-"

"I could not care less how beautiful you think I am." You stand, face to face, and you know your face is flushed with the force of your anger in that deeply unattractive way your mother hates. "All I want to know is why you changed your mind after approaching Zeus yourself." 

"It...does not matter," he finally says after a long moment spent blinking rapidly in the face of your frustration. 

"I just told you it does," you growl, and you're unsure what he sees in your face, but it makes him twitch.

"You...aren't fit for the role. I think I hear Thanatos calling for me..." 

He slips from your grasp easily, feeble as it is all of a sudden. His words echo within your thoughts, a numbness spreading through you as you try to gather yourself. 

Not fit to—what, be queen? Be his wife?

You sigh, a faint ache in your jaw from how hard you had been grinding your teeth, and rest your hands on the railing. Are you supposed to go home now?

'No.'

After all, Hades was very clear in declaring you unfit to be his wife. There's nothing more to do. You got your answers. 

'It's not enough.'

"Answers aren't all I want, after all," you murmur, reaching out a hand, smiling as a glowing orb floated up from the water to flutter around your palm. "I'll just have to show him." 

Hades wouldn't have spent all those months watching you in the meadow if he thought you to be so unsuitable. He wouldn't have kicked up such a fuss after catching wind of Ares' proposal, although he would be pissed if he found out Zeus had told you about that too. No, you won't let him escape so easily. 

You came here to be Queen, and it wouldn't do to let the King slip from your fingers with a few thoughtless words, would it?  

Your resolve remains strong, and you have another plan. Now if only he would stop avoiding you. 

If nothing else, you can at least say that you can have the almighty ruler of the Underworld running in the other direction with just a word, as he's been doing for a few days. It had been exceedingly amusing at first, watching him try to make it look as if he isn't running from you, but now your frustration mounts. Yesterday, you had followed him to the courtyard only for him to quite literally melt into the shadows. It's infuriating and you're done with this chase.

Now, you lurk in the shadows of his throne room, watching him attend to his duties. He's a stern one, this god you're trying to lockdown. Not one to be swayed easily.  You're content to wait, determination tight in your throat, as you watch the last of the Judges leave. 

Hades leans back in his throne of ebony, his shoulders relaxing from their stiff posture. You move when his eyes slide shut, creeping towards him and drawing Goldman's surprised gaze to you.

You hold up a finger to your lips, indicating for him to keep quiet until you reach the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne. Goldman hesitates before nodding, hurrying down the steps and ushering the two armoured guards at the doors from the room. 

Hades, who now watches you from his throne, says nothing as you come to a halt before him, close enough to touch. 

He does nothing as you step closer, between his spread knees to take a seat on one of them. His hands, resting on the arms of the throne, clench around the metal. 

"Not running away this time?" 

"You would just hunt me down again," he mutters, still watching you as you lean closer. "One could think you're Artemis in disguise."

"Invoking another goddess' name while I sit on your lap? You're quite shameless."

"And you're astonishingly persistent."

"I can be when it comes to what’s mine," you counter coolly, fighting a smirk when you catch the slight flush spreading high on his cheeks. 

"You go too far, Kore." The slight tremble in his tone belies his harsh words. He's not wrong, but he also hasn't pushed you off his lap yet. 

"You've left me no choice, Hades." You lean in, smiling faintly. He turns his head away, but two fingers under his chin tilt it back towards you. For a moment, you say nothing. You can't because his mask is slipping, it's apparent in the agitation in his eyes and the skies beyond the windows. "They say you're elusive, but there's only so much a girl can take."

The tip of your nose brushes his and it has you swallowing, has his lips parting, the feel of your breath mingling with his dizzying and terrifying. 

"I'll be good to you. Let me show you," you whisper, pressing your lips to his cheek. A shuddering, almost pained breath leaves him.

"You don't know what you're doing." It's a rumble in his chest, a half-hearted attempt to warn you but you've come too far to quit now. Your lips carve a soft path to his ear, kissing the lobe lightly. 

"Tell me you don't want me," you murmur, tracing the shell of his ear with your tongue.

He says nothing, but it's clear in the way his muscles strain, in his eyes that speak of yearning and desire.

Just one move and you'll have him. 

But he's temptation given form, and you're shaken by how violently your heart thunders in your chest. This will change the game, for better or for worse, you know it in your bones. If you give yourself to him, he will never let you go. Your tongue sweeps across your full lips, his eyes focusing on it and for the shortest of seconds, your lips meet the corner of his mouth. And then you dart away—or at least you try to, were it not for the hand sliding into your hair and bringing you back to him. Your breath stutters at the fierce look in his eyes, at the sudden unyielding grip he has on your hair and your heart.

"You should finish what games you start, little goddess." His voice is somehow fuller, his eyes dancing with sheer want and it scares you how much you want it but—it's that word, the 'little' that sparks your stubborn desire and has your eyes sliding shut as you press your mouth to his. For a moment, there's a buzzing sound in the back of your head and then, it feels like you've been struck by lightning. As if you've jumped into the deepest fires of Tartarus, and somewhere in the back of your thoughts, you realize you're in trouble.

But then he tilts his head and moves his lips and you have nothing to spare for anyone or anything except for him. A moan comes to life and dies within your throat when his other arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer. The next is stolen by him when you're pressed into him, melting into the chiselled planes of his torso. 

You can't think. 

His hands rove over your body, drawing you closer until your parted knees rest on the throne, on either side of his hips. You're not sure how long you sit there, kissing deeper and deeper and wanting more. Your heart feels full and you can't believe you finally have this, have him and then his hips press up into yours. A hot jolt in your belly has desire dripping through you as you feel him, firm against your centre, and then you realise your dress has ridden up almost to your waist.

'Oh.'

You're both dazed as you pull away, unable to form a thought let alone words. But this feeling, this contentment, you don't want to give it up. His flushed ears, his warm breath, his burning gaze. You want to capture it all and hoard it forever. The flashing skies break you out of the moment.

"I think we both have things to think through," you half-slur, flushing in embarrassment as you clamber off his lap, righting the hem of your dress. You nearly give in when he reaches for you, the lost look on his face tugging at your heartstrings but you force yourself to turn away and sprint down the stairs. 

This was the plan. Leave him wanting more, and he'll come after you. But this desire you feel, this need to go back, to curl around him and spent an eternity there—this wasn't part of the plan.  

'But this is a good thing.'

It could be. You came here to be more. Because you had deemed Hades to be the perfect one to marry, to escape your mundane life and reach for more than you were given, more than you were expected to be. Here, you could spread your wings.

But you hadn't expected to feel this deeply. 

When did it even begin, you wonder? Was it when you first saw him in battle? Had it all already been set in motion when you had so very conveniently positioned yourself close to his preferred spot of opening a portal to his realm? When you had heard the first whispers of him watching you plucking flowers? 

You had been content to let him observe you, listening to the trees giggle at his attempt at stealth. You had no idea what was so interesting about watching you frolic about the meadow, giggling with the Naiads, but it had worked to your advantage. That had been clear when Zeus spoke to you of his interest. 

But then he withdrew the offer, snatched away your chance and you were forced to take matters into your own hands. 

You reach your room with haste, rushing to your balcony to collapse beside the railing closest to the tree, clutching your chest. The branches above shiver and reach down to you. Your heart longs powerfully, it aches with it, and it's so sweet it's foolish. You're a fool. All the other gods and mortals, they're all fools. 

Hiding away in the Underworld is, not only the deadliest but perhaps the fairest god of them all. 

This time, you're the one avoiding him. 

It grates at you, this cowardice, but your heart flutters at just the thought of facing him and it makes you nervous. You're emotionally compromised. You want him, more than you've ever wanted anyone. 

It's when the palace is still, when the skies are darker, that you sneak out to the stables. His chariot rests in the back, but you're distracted by the scarlet eyes watching you from different stalls. They're quiet when you come closer, reaching into the one on right, stroking its soft forehead gently as he neighs. 

"Nyctaeus is more tolerant than the others." You nearly jump in fright as He materializes from the shadows, smiling slightly as the steed, who you now know to be Nyctaeus, neighs softly. 

His hand joins yours in stroking his head and you wish he would do that to you too. 

'I wonder if Cerebrus would consent to eat me?'

"They're good companions, especially when you can't sleep. Alastor," he points at the one on the far left, "can be quite chatty. Orphnaeus is a bit more reserved. Aethon...he may kick you if you try to make conversation." 

This might be the longest you've heard him talk in one conversation. You glance at him; he's dressed in a robe similar to yours, muted red where yours is olive green. His hair seems a bit dishevelled, as if he had run a hand through it one too many times. 

"I would love to get to know them better," you smile when Nyctaeus butts his muzzle into your palm. You watch from the corner of your eye as Hades pauses, then hesitates. 

"Kore." You turn to face him and he offers you his arm. "Walk with me?"

You walk for some time before the silence is broken, coming up to the bridge where you had cornered him and he'd run from you for the first time. The chandeliers are inactive, the lake providing enough light as it isn't quite dark here. 

"The other day..."

"I regret nothing," you cut in before he can take that route. He huffs out a low laugh, pulling you to where it's brightest.

"No, I suppose you don't." The green light from the lake reflects onto his features, illuminating them with an eerie glow. "And neither do I."

'Perfect,' you think, but there is only anticipation where there should be more triumph. 

"So..." He sighs, and something within you squeezes painfully. 

"Kore," he begins, tugging you closer when you turn away. "I didn't withdraw the proposal because I don't desire you. If it isn't clear already, it's very much the opposite."

You look up at him as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling ruefully. "But?"

"But I think you would be wasted here. Spring has no place in this realm of mine." There is a flicker of something in his eyes as he says those words. It hurts him, and hurts you too. And more than that, it offends you.

"Don't you think that should be my decision?" Your breath grows heavy, anger and longing warring within you at how sad he looks in the dim glow. 

"I think you deserve better," he argues, rather weakly in your opinion. He looks pitiful, the look out of place on this dark king and you hate it. He looks pained yet he can't seem to look away from you, and you can't turn your eyes away now that you've seen him. You've had a glimpse of his heart and you want it.

You simply kiss him. 

You do feel triumph now—in how helplessly he kisses you back, in the low groan he lets out, and in how naturally his arms find their place around you. 

"Hades," you begin, pulling away and bracing a hand against his chest when he follows. "I know I made it seem that away, but I don't actually have time."

"What do you mean?" The husky timbre of his voice makes you shiver. 

"I mean, I have until my mother finds out I've run away and sends someone after me," you admit sheepishly. His eyes widen before squeezing shut. 

"Demeter doesn't know you're here."

"She might now. But no, I didn't tell her anything." He glances around as if expecting your mother to come raging out of the lake. 

"Kore..." he sighs.

"She would never have agreed!" 

"Well, you clearly have a plan. What do you want to do?" 

You shrug. "Marry you."

"Kore!" 

"I'm serious. That was my plan."

"So am I. A wedding for those of our standing," he begins, pulling you into his arms. "It must take place before the Pantheon for it to be valid in their eyes." 

"I don't care about what they think," you mumble into his chest, feeling it shake as he chuckles. 

"I more than agree with that but," his lips brush your hair, "I would like for your mother and anyone else you love to be there."

You take a moment to think, before scraping the marriage plan—for now. Another idea sparks, one that you'd considered and abandoned before kissing him that day.

"A lovely thought," you purr, standing up on the tips of your toes to brush your lips along his sculpted jawline. His fingers dig into the sides of your waist. "Then we need to leave them no other choice but to give us their blessings." 

"And how do we go about that?"

Your tongue flicks against his lower lips and he opens his mouth instantly; you've kissed others before, but never has it been this addictive.

"First," your teeth graze his lip, "we go to my room." 

His hands find the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up with ease. Your surroundings blur with his speed, as he sinks into the shadows that form a blanket around you. It's a second of complete darkness and then you're in your room.

Now that he isn't using it to escape you, it really does seem like a handy trick.

"And then?" He lets you slip off, watching with glittering eyes as you start walking back to where your bed is. 

"And then," your nimble fingers find the knot of your dress, easing it open and unwrapping the cloth swiftly. "you make me yours." 

You laugh loudly at how wide his eyes get before he's on you and you're on the bed. He kisses you desperately as if he's afraid you'll be torn from his grasp, and you pull him closer until the soft material of his robes meets your bare skin. 

Rough fingertips slide down the gentle slope of your neck, reverent in their touch, brushing over a hardening nipple, sliding over your soft abdomen, dipping into the mess of curls below but not reaching for what lies beyond. 

"You're so beautiful, ___." His lips are fervent on your skin. "Thank you."

You laugh helplessly, shifting into a moan when he takes a nipple into his mouth. "Thank you?" 

Your back arches when he sucks, until he pulls back to smile down at you. The sight alone is enough to stun you, and the slight dimple in one cheek ensures further silence on your part.

"Yes," he leans in to kiss you but doesn't elaborate. You reach for the sash of his robes, tugging it off impatiently. You regret it the moment you succeed and the part of his robe allows you a closer look at what lies beneath. His torso looks as if it could have been sculpted by Hephaestus himself, and his cock—the sight of it flushed and erect has your mouth dry. 

"Oh," you say, and your face could've been on fire with how hot it feels.

"You seem nervous, little goddess," he says lightly, but the darkening of his eyes displays his lethal desire. "With how boldly you climbed onto my lap that day, I almost thought you were going to have me right there." 

"Ah, well," you avert your eyes, unable to escape his teasing gaze, "I actually...I've never..."

You miss the way his eyes soften at your trembling words, blinking when you feel his lips on your forehead. 

"I know. They do call you the Maiden, after all." 

At this, you glare at him. "Well, then, My Lord—I trust you to change that tonight." 

He grins as if he thinks you adorable, prompting you to push him until you switch positions. You climb onto him with flushed cheeks, sliding your hands down his chest until they splay dangerously low on his abdomen. His smile is fainter, edged with a warning, his hair fanned out over the sheets. You simply smile as you wrap your hands around his cock, squeezing it curiously. 

"K-Kore," he groans. "Please be careful with that." He helps you adjust your grip on the base of his shaft, guiding you to pump it slowly. 

"I told you, call me ___," you insist, watching with fascination as the tip of his cock starts to glisten temptingly. "Everybody else calls me Kore." 

"Right," he croaks, bucking his hips when you finally give in to the urge to lick at the slit of his cock. "By Tartarus. You wicked little thing. Ah, then, you m-may call me Victor." 

"Victor?" you ask, tongue stilling where it was sliding along his length. He smirks down at you. 

"I certainly feel like one." His ensuing chuckle is cut off when you take him into your mouth, trying to remember what the Naiads had mentioned about pleasuring your lovers. "D-don't push yourself." 

You hollow your cheeks in response, taking him deeper until your mouth feels uncomfortably full. You begin to bob your head slowly, unsure until you hear him groan and begin moving more confidently. 

It's when your tongue begins to slide in unison with your mouth and your hand inches towards his ballsack that you feel him tug at your hair, not easing his grip until you've let his cock slip out of your mouth with a whine. He curses again, sitting up and pulling you to him, tasting himself on your tongue. His robe slips off completely and you're quick to take advantage of it, stroking over his flexing muscles avidly.

You tense when you feel his warm palm on your inner thigh, as if your body is waiting for something but you don't know what, not until you feel him touch your sex. His fingers slide along your slit and you gasp into his mouth, fingers clenching around his shoulders as he touches you gently, stoking the flame you hadn't realised was there, preoccupied as you were with his bare skin.

"You're so wet for me," he murmurs, pleased. He slides a finger in, hissing when your walls squeeze him tight. "Oh, ___." 

You've only ever indulged yourself a few times, mostly out of curiosity and restlessness, but here as you sit in the arms of the man you've claimed as yours, it feels completely different. His fingers are longer, thicker, and it seems so deliciously erotic; he swallows your moans, kisses your cheeks, whispers his encouragement as your hips begin to move, grinding into his hand. He makes you come on his fingers, holding you as you tremble and cling to him. 

He lays you down, kissing your forehead, the lids of your eyes, your nose, your cheeks. He lingers on your lips before his mouth glides along your neck, stopping to suck softly on your breasts. His lips on your abdomen feel ticklish, making you giggle until you feel his breath on your quivering cunt. He parts your legs, and his ravenous gaze makes you throb harder. 

"Vic-Victor-"

Any capacity to speak coherently is lost with the first lick along your slit, before his tongue pushes through and you're left writhing on the bed. He sucks and laps at you, his iron grip around your thighs thwarting your attempts at squirming away. His lips close around your nub and you keen, begging for respite or for more, you don't even know yourself. 

He does pull away, crawling over to kiss your hair and murmur soothing praises as you kiss his jaw and widen your legs in a silent invitation. Ha-Victor looks at you when he brushes the head of his cock against you, not looking away even as he begins to push in. The air feels charged with magic, you feel it in little sparks against your skin. Your head falls to the mattress, eyes rolling back as he pulls back to slide in further with shallow thrusts, overwhelmed by how full it feels. 

"You're going to be the death of me," he chokes out, feeling your walls fluttering around him. Locking eyes with him has been an intense experience every single time but now, with him throbbing within you, it feels almost painfully intimate.  

"G-Good thing you won't be going anywhere," you manage to quip, smiling even as he draws you into a kiss and begins to thrust. He sets a smooth pace, allowing you to try and keep up as your hips begin to undulate. It's with measured thrusts and clever fingers that you come again, with fervid kisses on your skin that soften with every breath you take. He empties himself within you, murmuring incoherent praises into the side of your throat as he shakes.  

He takes you into his arms, a hand caressing the length of your back, and a memory springs up; once, one of the visiting nymphs had claimed to have bedded Hades. She had scoffed and declared him to be a cold lover, that living in the Underworld for so long must've drained him of all passion. You had suspected it even then, but now you know she had been lying. 

Your soft snickers draw his attention away from your shoulders, where he had been planting soft kisses.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing," you say breezily, rolling over to grin at him. "Just congratulating myself on a job well-done." 

"As you should," he agrees. "But I don't see how this stops Demeter from taking you away." 

You stare at him. He hasn't realized it, has he?"

"That was just for us." You sit up, opening your arms when he shifts to rest his head on your stomach. "Now...I'm hungry."

He freezes, nearly flinging himself back with how quickly he rises. "___." 

"You can't tell me you hadn't considered it." You raise a brow at how his eyes fall with shame.

"I...did. It would've done the job. But at the time it would've been against your wishes," he admits, tucking your head under his chin as you wrap your arms around him. 

"And now it won't be." 

"___." He places his hands on your shoulders, looking at you gravely. "This will bind you to the Underworld. To me."

Your only response is to roll your eyes and kiss him. 

The conversation derails very quickly from there and time blurs as you lose yourselves in each other. It's when you sit on the edge of the pool, leaning back on your arms with your legs spread wide as Victor fucks you with his tongue, that a strange ringing sound reaches your ears. Victor growls and continues until you're a mewling mess on unsteady limbs that he pulls into the water.

"Hermes is here," he informs you, his arms tight around as you both realize your time is up. You kiss him, hard and fast, pulling him up the steps before your common sense takes leave once more. 

"We have to do it now," you insist, shaking your head when he opens his mouth. "I'm sure. I want you. I will have no one else as my husband."

He blushes, clearing his throat and nodding. "I feel the same. I...I want you as my wife. And my queen." 

You stand there like a pair of fools, smiling at each other until there's another insistent ring. Victor holds his hand out, and you stare at it in confusion until a pomegranate appears from thin air. 

"Right, we must consider your other duties as well," he mutters to himself, seemingly agonizing over it until he digs out six seeds. 

“...Yes, we must.” 

"Six seeds for six months?" he asks quietly. 

"That should do it." A shame that you can't stay by his side, but you must think of your mother and the people too. You did consider just having someone replace you but it's not that easy, and it would be too selfish of you. "You can come to visit while I'm there."

"I will," he promises, holding up the first seed to your mouth. He feeds you each seed individually, waiting patiently as you chew. You look down at yourself and then around. 

"I don't feel any changes." He laughs and laces his fingers through yours. 

"I do. They'll have no choice but to let you come now," he whispers into your hair. "Hermes will probably take you to Olympus." 

"I'll see you there, then." You can't help the mischievous smirk that curls along your mouth. "We do have a wedding to plan." 

Victor groans and pushes you onto the bed. 

It's with a cheerful grin and a skip in your step that you materialize out of the shadows to meet Hermes in the throne room. The Messenger looks confused by your enthusiastic greeting, which contrasts greatly with Victor's brooding pout.

"Hades. Kore. I believe you know why I'm here," he states, peering at you through his helmet when you just nod. "Kore, I'm to take you to Olympus. Your parents are waiting." 

Hermes nearly chokes when you turn to Victor, waiting until he lowers his head so you can plant a noisy kiss on his cheek. 

"I'll see you soon, darling."

"I'll be there,” he vows.

You take the hand offered by an incredulous Hermes, looking back at Victor as a golden ring surrounds you and your escort.

"___?" 

Your heart aches already, your lip quivering at the miserable look in his eyes. There’s an awful feeling burning in your chest and you think you’re starting to understand all those songs about longing for your lover.

"Yes?" your voice cracks pitifully, and he cracks the softest smile at that, watching you leave him so tenderly it may just break you. All you want to do is hold him and tell him every silly thought you’ve ever had, to dig deeper and listen to anything he wants to tell you. You manage a wobbly smile for him.

"I love you."

Your eyes widen, heart skipping as you open your mouth—and then he vanishes from sight. You materialize in a secluded garden within Olympus, Hermes staring at you in shocked silence as you try to compose yourself. It feels as if you’ve left your heart behind, and you hadn’t known love could ever be so bittersweet. 

"Well, now I almost want to take you back," he mutters as your eyes begin to burn. "Come, your parents await you. I suspect you have a lot to tell them."

Hermes is right. The sooner you inform them of your decision, the sooner you'll see Victor again. You've fallen in love with the King of the Underworld, with all his jagged edges and dimpled smiles—and there is no force in all of the realms that will stop you from making him yours. 

[resinatingbeauty]

Real Talk Time (#RTT) - My Messages to all “Baby” Witches / Anyone Discovering Their Spirituality

•When it comes to magick, if it feels right you’re doing it right. You won’t know if it feels right if you don’t do it. A lot of us fall victim to the obsession that is part of the process, in my opinion, of realizing your potential as a witch/magician/wiccan/magick user of any sort, that is the compulsive consumption of all things magickal or new age/occult related. You begin building this collection of books, accumulating supplies, candles, symbols, accents for your altar-all this time reading and searching for things to perform spells and rituals that you never end up performing because of all the time and energy put into accumulating ..stuff.

The irony being is there is nothing inherently magickal about stuff. Magick is not a tangible thing, it’s a spiritual thing. The reality is you don’t need much stuff at all to manifest your desires and intentions. You don’t need to have the equivalent of the Library of Congress filled with books and texts about magick spells, invocations, rituals, etc. either. Don’t get me wrong, knowledge is a great thing, knowledge is power, but balance is a very important fundamental concept in all new age/occult/pagan traditions and if all you’ve been doing is absorbing and not performing then you’re missing out on what makes magick worth doing- doing it. Just do it *itnsert angry Shia Labeouf motivational meme here*

The problem with the over consumption of knowledge is the lack of experience to go along with it. If you’re moving constantly through various texts, chances are you haven’t taken the time to act on what had been written. Magick is about finding your connection to the universe, finding that perfect balance of confidence, humility, understanding, and inner peace that allows you to be just so in tune with yourself and everything around you that you truly, without a doubt, feel a part of it- not just a little part, but a BIG part- big enough to move mountains. What one author says to do may be contradicted by another even in the same vein of thought, but that’s them. You have to find what works for you. Once you find it, never let it go. Elaborate on it, because you can do no wrong spiritually, so long as you aren’t, you know, committing mass murder or persuading others to do it a la Jamestown.

•Those elaborate and intriguing rituals sound great until you do them (or not). I am admittedly guilty of this, as I truly enjoyed the textbook style of Donald Michael Kraig’s writing on Ceremonial Magick (highly recommend Modern Magick any edition to anyone interested in that kind of thing) and good old Aleister Crowley who could turn a mundane love spell into something out of an HP Lovecraft novel (I’m sure it’s intentional), but the wonderful imagery these texts would form in my mind couldn’t, nay, wouldn’t be manifested into reality because, quite simply, I don’t have the kind of attention span or space for that kind of thing, and I ultimately found that I don’t need all the props and paraphernalia to manifest my magick. This also goes along with my first message about accumulating stuff. While there is more than enough reason behind all the symbols, tools, and objects we utilize as spiritualists, the chalice is just a pretty cup to those who aren’t inclined to use it as such. Rituals obtain power through the repetition, focus, and energy put into them, not the objects used to facilitate this process, though these objects help maintain that focus or visual, they are not sources of magick unto themselves. The talismans I create are not magickal themselves, they were made into talismans through energy transfer and intent, the ritual is in their creation, my own essence flowing into them through my hands as they work. If you aren’t the type of person who regularly goes through these grandiose measures and thrives in the complex and detailed who also has the time to devout to several hour long invocations for regular cleansing, keep it simple. Unless you’re that kind of person, chances are the more complex it is the less likely you are to do it. While you’re researching and visualizing these rituals in your mind’s eye like a movie, ask yourself if that type of thing is something you have the time, space, and attention span for (I know I don’t.) Any magick is better than none.

Now, some rituals are supposed to be complex, intricate workings that are intended to work off around a high level of energy and commitment (think exorcisms / banishing rituals, summonings or invokations etc). Crowley and Peter Carroll (another of my favorites) openly wrote about long, sensual, demanding rituals where trance states induced by drugs, sleep deprivation / sensory deprivation, hypnosis, and other means were incorporated into rituals, but they aren’t exactly a requirement.

In the same breath, anyone who criticizes how you perform a ritual (unless you’re asking for assistance or experiencing adverse affects) is full of shit. If you have channeled the energy and focus toward your intent, you will manifest results. Period. It doesn’t matter if you focus your altar around summoning Lillith, make the necessary offerings, draw the sigil, etc., if you’re actually thinking about what you’re going to have for dinner on March 3rd, you’re probably not doing it right. I don’t know you, however, you may have great success completely detaching yourself from your purpose- whatever works for you.

•Don’t fixate on labels - fixate on bettering yourself and your connection to the universe. There’s a lot of elitist internet witches and what not around, but hear me brothers and sisters, they are nothing but psychic vampires trying to throw you off your game. “My Book of Shadows is bigger than yours” is only relevant if you give a damn. I sure as hell don’t. I’m not impressed with lengthy resumes of spells and rituals performed over the last twenty years. If you choose to keep a Book of Shadows, its primary purpose should be reflection, allowing you to correspond your craft with reality and for you to look back at and troubleshoot or reiterate. It isn’t a badge of honor. The choice of keeping one is also entirely optional- though recommended, some do better performing their piece and setting it aside until the see the results they desire. Unless your spells affect me (or I ask you about your work) , you do you and I’ll do me. The only important thing is that you do so for yourself, you do so because it feels right and natural for you to do so, and you do it for the betterment of yourself and all of us who have to live in the world you have directly influenced. Whether you’re a “baby” witch, a cape wearing pointy hat toting broomstick bombshell, a woods witch, weed witch, green witch, black witch, voodoo priestess, magician, chaote, occultist, necromancer, reiki practitioner, shaman , level 300 Geodude- we are all working toward the same goals, one way or another. Regardless of what you choose to identify yourself with or what system/rules you choose to follow, we need to build each other up, not put each other down. We have the major indoctrinated religions doing that for us.

That is all.

[yoongisbabymomma-typing]

Big Fat Crush | Ksj

Pairing | Jin x secretary!reader

Word count | 4.0K

Genre : Fluff

Summary: You’re Jin’s personal secretary he doesn’t want to admit that he has a crush on you until something happens to make him realize he has a big fat crush on you.

A/n: I wanna thank my friend Kathy for editing the story and making it seem more professional. Enjoy the story I haven’t seen too many Jin fanfics so here.

Y/n’s POV

It was close to the end of my eight hour shift, I stretched back and cracked my numb fingers. I missed the sunset, now it was pitch dark outside, though I don't necessarily mind the twinkling of the few distant stars. I work for a big company, By the Kim’s, they are number one in social status everywhere. They could literally walk into any store or place and everyone would be on their knees. I work for the oldest of three Kim’s: Kim Seokjin is the CEO of the company I work for. His younger siblings are Kim Namjoon and Kim Taehyung, who’re both also CEOs.

Jin works all day at the office, I rarely see him leave the place; it’s like his second home. I am his personal secretary, I finish the leftover work he usually has. My interview was impressionable to Jin, because we had recognized each other from our high school days. I was already late, running through the crowded hallway in my heels that weren’t at all tall, but still inducing my anxiety. I tried so hard to look fancy to give off a good impression, as any newcomer would. As I weaved my way through different bodies containing the same excitement mixed with nervousness, I finally made it to the correct room for my interview. “Room 316”, the plaque read. I grabbed the metal handle with a sense of urgency, and my nerves wracked throughout my body as the door opened to reveal the receptionist, a young lady with pursed lips in a gentle smile.

“ Is this the room for the interview of Mr. Kim’s secretary? ” My voice came out in a squeak and I could’ve sworn I saw the corner of the receptionist, Song Yoon Ah’s, lips curl as she tried to hide her laugh.

“ Indeed this is the correct room, may I have your name? ” She already had her hand on the mouse, ready to pull up my profile picture on her computer screen.

“ Um, y/n l/n. ” I saw the computer screen’s light illuminate Ms. Song’s face as a familiar picture of me was shown on her computer screen.

“ Ms. l/n, your number is twenty, there’s only one person before you, so please just take a seat. I have some candy, if you'd like some?” Ms. Song pushed an intricate bowl of different assortments of mints my way. I grabbed four of them, two to calm my nerves and two to make my breath smell fresh, well, I supposed all mints do the latter. After an excruciating twenty minutes, my name and number were finally called. I saw the door open as the previous interviewee exited the room, and I shakily stood up, brushing off any nerves and dust as I walked towards the interview room. Ms. Song had given me two thumbs up in support as she sported her classic pursed-lip smile.

During the interview, I noticed Jin’s eyes moving robotically as if scanning each and every one of my facial features. He would glance curiously from my eyebrows, to my eyes, to my lips on repeat before asking if I attended Bosung High School. This took me by shock, how did he know that I went to Bosung High School? I guess he noticed it, because he was chuckling to himself. I continued to stare at him in bewilderment, a slight image of him floated across my mind, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place who this man was in my memory.

He stood up and asked,

“ Ms. l/n, do you remember me from high school? ”

“ I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, I feel fond of you, however, I can’t quite place who you were in Bosung High School. ” I replied to his previous question, he smiled a smile that made me feel even more nervous as to who he was. It felt like the longest two minutes before a clear memory of him resurfaced in my mind’s eye,

“ Ahh, Mr. Kim, were you in my film class? You were the one that wore glasses..? ” His eyes lit up in recognition of the fond memory and he laughed, the sound of bell charms,

“ Ah, yes, I wore glasses during high school. ” I smiled, the distant memory of his dorky, high school self. He was always late to class, and he always ate a bunch of snacks when our teacher had his back turned towards us. He looks a lot different now, his build less scrawny and more lean. The inky black of his suit made him taller and more intimidating, but little did people know that he was extremely dorky, or at least he was.

“ Since we’re familiar with each other, you can just call me Jin. ” I nodded, and told him to just address me by my first name, too.

Leaving the interview room felt like a weight of thousand sins had been lifted off my shoulders, Ms. Song was eager to ask me how the interview went, to which I nodded and told her that it went well, that Jin and I were actually already accommodated to each other. Ms. Song’s eyes gleamed as she smiled a full smile, revealing her pearly teeth, as she congratulated me.

As I was exiting the hallway from the interview room, I heard my name being called by a familiar voice.

“ Y/n-ah, wait! ” I turned around, it was Jin running to catch up to me.

“ Here, it’s my card. You can call me later and maybe we can go out to dinner or coffee, whenever you’re free. ” He was slightly out of breath, and his outstretched hand shook with nervousness as he handed me the card.

I smiled and took the card from him, “ Thank you, I’ll take you up on the offer. ” The day ended with us scheduling a free day for Jin and I to go out for coffee, to catch up on each other’s lives. A few days later, I got a call from Ms. Song, congratulating me for being hired as Jin’s personal secretary.

Presently, we're in a meeting for a new advertisement. I was taking notes while Jin was watching the presentation.

“ This is our idea for our new advertisement, any questions? ” said Mr. Wang, head of the advertisement department. He was a short, middle-aged man, who was constantly cheery and his wife always baked random goodies for everyone at work.

“ Everything looks good Mr. Wang, we can proceed to the next step. This meeting is adjourned, thank you all for coming. ” Jin stood up and we briskly walked away,

“ Mr. Kim, that was the last thing on your schedule for today, you can go home and rest now. ” I glanced at Jin as he rubbed his face tiredly,

“ No y/n, you can go home first. I have a few papers I need to attend to. ” I greeted him before grabbing my belongings and eagerly heading for home.

The ride home was long, the sky was pitch dark, as always, and the moonlight illuminated the road home. I’d never felt more relieved, yet scared, as I entered my dark house. It was only after flickering on every light in the house and making sure there weren’t any invaders hiding behind shower curtains, under the bed, in the closet, or behind doors, did I feel safe. But just as I was relaxing in my pajamas, ready to binge watch some kdramas, when my phone rang with it’s rude alarm as the caller ID showed an idiot. I almost considered not picking up, almost.

“ Hey Chan! ”

“ Yah, y/n-ah, let’s go out to the club~ ” came the whiny voice on the other side of the line, he always bothers me when I’m about ready to enjoy the rest of my day spending time alone.

“ Why? I just came home and― ” I was rudely interrupted by his obnoxious voice,

“ I’ll be there in twenty minutes, be ready~ ”

Chan ended the call abruptly, “ Great, I came home ready to relax, just to have to go out again. Ugh. ” The scowl on my face couldn’t be more pronounced. I rushed fixing my makeup and figuring out a cute outfit to wear. As I was finishing, I heard a honk, and a glance out the window revealed Chan’s car parked on the side of my house. I sprinted through the house, double checking for invaders, even though I was the only one home for the last few hours, I just had to be sure. I flicked off every light in the house, grabbing an extra jacket since it tends to get colder during the nights, before locking the door and greeting Chan in his car.

“ Hey y/n, looking spicy~ ” Chan looked at me over his sunglasses, I don’t even know why this idiot is wearing sunglasses DURING THE NIGHT. I mean, aren’t they called SUNglasses for a reason??

I surveyed Chan up and down before saying, “ You look good too Chan, I guess. ” Chan gasped and whipped his head around so fast, I could’ve sworn he was about to snap his own neck,

“ Girl...you didn’t! ” I laughed at his exasperated cry as he continued to whine.

“ Let’s just go, I want to go home early. ” He started the ignition and we were off to the nightclub. We arrived at the club and Chan and I fought over parking space with a black SUV, Chan rolling down his window aggressively before flipping off the driver, who simply smirked at Chan. I could’ve sworn I saw Chan blush. I know I did.

Inside, Chan and I went straight to the bar because I insisted on something to get me going. After downing a couple of shots, we started to dance, no dirty dancing, just two friends dancing around drunkenly like everybody else was. After a few minutes of failed dancing, Chan whispered to me, “ Hey girl, I’m going to find a boyfriend, see ya! ” I laughed at him and he smacked my ass, “ Yah Chan! You made me come here, and now you’re ditching me? ” I saw Chan walking towards some figure in the back, he looked so familiar. That’s when I realized it was the SUV driver from earlier, that douchebag Chan. I knew he caught feelings.

I went to the bar to grab a few more shots before leaving, but I got a tap on my shoulder,

“ Hey y/n. ” I turned around and it was another familiar face,

“ Oh hey Jackson, what are you doing here? ”

He sat beside me and ordered a drink for himself, “ I need a little break from work so I came here to have fun. What about you? ” We engaged in conversation back and forth before Jackson invited me to the dance floor.

Jin’s POV

I was finally done with my papers when I got a call from one of my close friends,

“ Hey Jimin. ”

“ Jin, you wanna go to the club today? ” My friend’s eager voice insinuated he really wanted someone to go with him. Since I was already finished with work, and I needed some distraction, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.

“ Sure, I’ll meet you there. ”

As I parked, I heard Jimin call my name from afar, “ Yah! Let’s go in, Jin! ”

We walked in and the hostess invited us upstairs to a table in the VIP section. Some girls tried to come over and sit with us, promising a good time, but Jimin and I both declined. He had a girlfriend, and I had a tiny crush on someone. We ordered our drinks and waited around for them to be made.

“ So how was work, Jin? ” Jimin fiddled with his gold watch as he viewed the dancing crowd below the VIP section.

“ It was good. The usual. ” A brunette waitress brought us our drinks on a gold tray, we thanked her and she nodded before leaving us by ourselves again.

“ Hey Jin, isn’t that y/n? ” I paused from sipping my drink, a glance down at the dance floor revealed y/n with some guy laughing.

“O-oh, it is… ”

Jimin smirked, “ Aren’t you going to tell y/n about your long time crush on her? ”

“ I don’t have a crush on her. ” I denied it, what does he know about crushes anyway?

“ Yes, you do. Jin, you’re staring holes into the poor guy’s back. ” So maybe he was right, maybe I did in fact have a tiny crush on y/n. So maybe he was also right about me being too hesitant to confess to her due to my fear of rejection. I know he was certainly right about me staring holes into the back of whatever douchebag was dancing beside y/n.

I was planning to look away when I saw the guy slap y/n’s ass, that does it, “ No man should touch a woman like that. ”

“Jin, calm down. I thought you only had a small crush.” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. He was right. I did have a big, fat crush on y/n in high school. She was so quiet and beautiful, she helped me once when I lost my glasses. I was scared and blind, I went on my knees to find my glasses, but I couldn’t feel them anywhere on the ground. At least not until an angelic voice rang out, her footsteps stopping right where I was on the ground.

“ Here, ” She gently placed the glasses on my outstretched palm, before helping me stand up again.

“ T-thank you...” I said as I put them back on. I could finally see her clearly for the first time, and that first memory of her has been etched into my mind forever. She said goodbye and smiled a quaint smile before leaving. I saw her again at school, she was in a class with me. I stalked her Instagram, hoping one day to earn the courage to confess, but obviously, that never occurred.

Back to the present, I was marching down the stairs to the dance floor in my attempt to spot y/n. Swerving through the sweaty dancing bodies, I found her talking with Jackson, laughing. It was then that I decided I was going to confess to her. After all this time, right here, in a dance club, right now, years later, I’ve earned the courage to confess to her. I was going to confess my feelings and ask her out.

“ Hey y/n. ” Came my determined voice, I could feel my confidence slipping as soon as those words exited my lips, what in the world was I thinking?

Y/n POV

“ Hey y/n. ”

I turned away from Jackson and saw Jin, “ Oh hey, Jin. ” He fiddled with the watch on his wrist.

“ Y/n, can we talk privately somewhere else? ” Jin looked nervous, I’d seen him nervous before, but this time, it was a different type of nervous. He kept glancing at Jackson and appeared to be in a rush.

“ Uh, sure. Bye Jackson, I’ll see you later. ” I waved to Jackson and he grinned before Jin and I exited the club and proceeded to walk to my house together.

The walk to my house was peaceful, save more Jin’s nervous energy which made my nerves act up too. At my house, I offered him coffee to drink and we sat down at the dining table and I realized I didn’t tell Chan that I was leaving. I was slightly worried about Chan, but he’s a big boy, and I’m sure he can find his way home. Hopefully, he doesn’t drink and drive, though. I might have to go back for him...my brain wandered aimlessly as we sat in silence before I asked the question that had been lingering in my mind ever since we left the club. myI

“ So Jin, what did you want to talk about? ” I stared at him with doe eyes.

“ I wanted to say you look breathtaking y/n, and I wanted to ask you something. ” He fidgeted with the edge of his coffee mug.

“ Oh thank you, Jin. You also look good yourself! Go ahead and ask me whatever’s on your mind. ”

“ So y/n, do you have a boyfriend or anyone you’re interested in? ” He nervously glanced up to meet my eyes. His brown eyes were filled with a desperate look, almost pleading me for an answer.

“ Yes, I do, in fact, have someone I am interested in. ” I replied, smiling. However, Jin looked a bit hurt and a slight tint of jealousy boiled in his brown eyes, but I didn’t say anything about it.

“ Who is this person? What are they like? ” He asked, his full attention on me now. No hint of the nervous man just a few seconds ago, existed in this man, sitting before me now. His eyes were filled with a sense of determination now, determination for what, I don’t quite know.

I smiled, “ Hmm...lemme think. Well, he’s handsome, tall, broad shoulders, and fun― ”

“ You can stop now, y/n. ” He looked at me with teary eyes, all that determination diminished as fast as it came.

“ What’s wrong, Jin? Why are you tearing up? ” I walked over to him and wiped his eyes with my thumb, handing him a napkin along with it. He looked so sad, nothing like the man I knew from work. He clasped his hands tightly around mine, the warmth of his hands embraced my cold ones.

“ Why can’t it be me y/n? Why can’t you talk about me like that? ” His voice broke off towards the end, the desperate plea of a man stripped of his pride.

I tried to speak, but he cut me off, “ I want you to like me back, and I want you to look at me like I do to you. I want you to date me and marry me later, and have a family I want― ”

I cut him off with a kiss, “ You know you talk a lot, ” I smiled, “ From my description, I would have thought it was obvious I was talking about you. ”

Jin was a blushing and mumbling mess, but somehow he managed to say, “ I should have known you were talking about me when you said handsome. I mean, look at me, I’m Mr. Worldwide Handsome. ” We laughed loudly as I hugged his waist and he rested his chin atop my head,

“ So...is that a ‘yes’ to be my girlfriend? ”

I rolled my eyes, “ Yes, Jin I just confessed my love for you with that kiss. ” He laughed and hugged me tighter, before letting me go.

“ Oh and one more thing y/n, ”

I glanced up at Mr. Worldwide Handsome, confusion taking over my features, “ Yes? ”

“ Who was that man that touched my girlfriend’s ass? ” He looked at me with expectant eyes, waiting patiently for my explanation.

I snorted, “ Oh it’s Chan, my gay best friend. ”

Jin choked on his coffee, “ Oh, that’s great to know. You know what, I think it’s late. I'll see you tomorrow. ” I patted his shoulder and walked with Jin to the door. He was halfway out the door when he turned and came closer to me and gave me a kiss and ran to his car. I giggled and went to bed, feeling giddy even as the dawn broke the next morning.

I was in the hallway of the company, walking towards my desk. I noticed an expensive bouquet of roses on my desk. Confusion was my first reaction, until Ms. Song handed me a card wrapped in lace, her eyes gleaming with expectation and excitement. I could’ve sworn the entire office fell silent, all of my coworkers eavesdropping on my reaction to the card.

I untwined the lace and opened the note: “ Dear y/n, hello love, I wanted to say I love you and that I hope you enjoy these overpriced roses I bought, just for you. You can pay me back in kisses, cuddles, and compliments; those are the only payments I take. See you in a few, sincerely, your handsome future husband. ” I scoffed reading the cheesy notes, my cheeks flushed nonetheless, and my smile stretching from ear-to-ear.

My deskmates started to flood my desk, “ Oh my gosh, y/n those are beautiful flowers! Who sent them?”

I smiled, “ I will not disclose my love life with you guys, now scram. ” A collective sigh filled with disappointment and pouts regressed back to their desks. Ms. Song, however, was still smiling her pursed-lip smile. The entire day I was in a cheerful mood and my coworkers continued to pester me for the information on the card, but I ignored them, and they would continue to walk away dejectedly.

It was now night, and I was going to leave home when I heard a familiar voice calling out to me, “ Y/n baby, wait! ” I turned around and so did my coworkers so fast it was scary. Jin ran up to me and held my hand, everyone gasped.

Jin looked around and said, “ What? Isn’t it normal to hold your girlfriend’s hand? ” Everyone gasped again, some almost fainted, Jin looked back proudly, “ Yes, everyone. My girlfriend is y/n so no one better flirt with her or you’re fired. ”

Someone from the back remarked, “ Finally, they’re dating. It was so obvious! ” Jin and I turned and looked at each other, “ Obvious? ”

Someone else from the right corner replied, “ Yeah! Every time someone was getting close to y/n, Mr. Kim stared holes into that person and vice-versa. ”

We blushed a deep shade of red, “ Anyway, y/n and I are leaving. Bye, everyone. Have a good night. ” We left together. A few months later Jin and I were married. Two months after the wedding we found out I was pregnant and everyone was happy. Jin and I were super nervous to be parents sure we babysat before but this is a whole new ball game. Back to present I am now in the delivery room welcoming our first child.

“ YAH! KIM SEOKJIN, WHY DIDN'T YOU USE PROTECTION?! ” I glanced angrily at Jin, who nervously held my left hand.

“ I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!!! ” I was pushing the baby out, while holding Jin’s hand and yanking his hair.

“ Ah- y/n I’m sorry! I’ll do better next time, please stop hurting my handsome face and I! You’re going to leave me bald, honey! ” Jin pleaded desperately.

“ YOU BETTER DO BETTER OR ELSE I AM GOIN― ” I felt the baby coming out mid-sentence.

“ Mrs. Kim, keep pushing! The baby is almost here! ” The doctor informed me and I screamed and pushed with everything I had left in me. I heard a baby crying and I laid there limp on the bed.

I heard Jin crying, “ You did good, baby! ” He gently kissed my head.

“ Here Mr. Kim, you can hold your baby. ” Jin held the baby and was smiling like he won an immeasurable amount of money, “ Look, she has your eyes and my nose, honey. Thank you y/n for everything, I love you. ” He whispered and I smiled faintly at the crying baby in his arms.

“ I love you too, Jin, and our new family member. ”

The doctor reappeared, “ What is the baby’s name? ”

Jin and I looked at each other, “ Kim Yeji. ”