#there's also a lot of references that im sure would make me able to go one step deeper because my guy looooves cultural reference

[your-turn-to-role]

if it helps at all (reblogging directly from you starry bc can't tag you) - as someone who gave up on it pretty early on bc it wasn't really my thing, i have been wanting to look up more positive opinions on the campaign recently, i've just been really busy so haven't had time to respond to anything but what's on my dash, which yeah is a lot of critique, and with what i do know there's definitely stuff i'm not a fan of, sure

but also like. the critical role cast aren't some corporation just trying to squeeze money out of this show, like a lot of the things c3 has been compared to are

while they could have, in retrospect, probably made better decisions to really pull off whatever they were going for, they're also playing the game that makes them happiest (and they're putting it all online for free it's not like they're obligated to follow the fans' ideas of what should happen)

if you enjoyed it all start to finish, you're honestly a perspective i'd like to see round tumblr more! you're seeing what the cast see in this narrative and that definitely doesn't make you wrong or stupid. if there was no value in this story whatsoever they would have stopped a long time ago

as megs said, being able to articulate an opinion well doesn't make it objective truth. god knows i can pull out a million references for any of my essays but when i write them it's always gonna be me shining light on a specific angle of the narrative that appeals to me. other people can choose to pick a different angle and still be just as right, regardless of whether or not it's something i personally would enjoy looking at. and that's even more true in a fandom like this, where every narrative is in fact 7+ narratives that we hope will weave together well, and there's a million things to focus on that haven't all been handpicked by the creators for the sake of telling a singular story

if you're seeing an angle a lot of people aren't focusing on, hell, celebrate that! i love hearing about the moments that genuinely appealed to people, it just feels like there's been fewer and fewer of them focused on bells hells the longer the story went on. but i've also been in fandoms where i truly genuinely enjoyed the ending of a particular story and thought it was well told the whole way through, and then it turned out 99% of the fandom thought the ending was rushed and it ruined the whole thing, so i definitely get how that can feel a bit crushing and like you're fighting a tidal wave

(and hell to your tags about being worried c3 will become an automatic skip in the fandom - i also really love a lot of the c1 episodes before ep24 and think there's some great character stuff there that a lot of people skip bc orion or because the briarwood arc is where it gets 'good', so im with you on that one. it sucks but it doesn't mean i can't talk about, say, trial of the take, there still are and always will be people in the fandom who've watched it, and there will be even more people who didn't watch it but are glad to find out what's in it because they couldn't find out themselves)

so yeah all to say if you ever wanted to write about c3 stuff you loved, im on your side here

if you're just sad that the fandom reaction to stuff you liked has been overwhelmingly negative, that's also fine, and doesn't make you any less a valued member of this fandom

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when no developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

[variousqueerthings]

you read one jorge luis borges story and you're like "what the heck just happened, i feel like i almost understand something but im not all the way there. maybe the next one will make it clearer" and then you read another jorge luis borges story and you go "wait wait there was a secret civilisation of immortals doing what" but he doesn't tell you more than what exists on the scant pages you were given so you read a third jorge luis borges story because after all they're really only a few pages each and they do entice you so for reasons you cant immediately put your finger on, and a fourth jorge luis borges story and a fifth and sixth and so on until you feel like the world is a labyrinth that you can only glimpse the truth at the centre of and you're twisting and twining your way through hidden corridors and half-glimpsed mythologies and histories and the world is a wondrous (oftentimes in a terrifying way) place with magic and wisdom and stories that could assail you at any moment if you just open your eyes to them.

and you still think that you almost understand something so you go back and read the first jorge luis borges story again, but also you know that you understand everything you're meant to, because after all one can never know everything that the wondrous labyrinths of the world, one can only experience them.

EDIT: also they sound like what a dream feels like

[mariasont]

A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.

summary: your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: some suggestive content, hotch being a menace, reader having a praise kink, end suggests something may happen but nothing explicit in this one folks im getting my libido under control swear, also count how many times r refers to hotch's face as stupid im crying

wc: 1.9k

You hated running. No—loathed it. Detested it. Despised it with every fiber of your being. If there was a stronger word, one that captured the burning, irrational rage you felt whenever someone suggested going for a jog, Spencer might have known it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to ask. Simply put, running was not your thing.

But when Aaron—your boyfriend and somehow the most persistent man alive—asked you to join you on a run, you couldn't exactly say no. He didn't beg—Aaron Hotchner did not beg—but his version of asking, that soft it'd mean a lot to me paired with an encouraging smile, was close enough to begging in your book. Besides, you figured there'd be some sort of reward when you got back home. Aaron was good at those.

So here you were, contributing absolutely nothing to your marathon-obsessed, fitness-loving FBI boyfriend's training. Sweat coated every inch of your body, your legs felt like lead, and your lungs burned with every ragged breath you managed to suck in. The sun blazed overhead, making you feel more like a roasting chicken than a willing participant in this so-called fun activity.

Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a fitness ad—shirt clinging to him in ways that felt outright scandalous. Even the sweat on his face somehow made him look even more attractive.

He was at least ten paces ahead of you and every few steps, he'd glance over his shoulder, probably checking to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted or snuck off to find an air-conditioned cafe. Honestly, both were real possibilities.

Aaron's pace slowed until he was running beside you, throwing you a smile so unfairly handsome it made your legs feel weaker than they already did.

"How are you feeling?" The question felt retorical—anyone, profiler or not, was sure to be able to read you like an open book right now. "Still alive, or do I need to start figuring out the best way to carry you home without breaking any traffic laws?"

"I think I'm alive," you managed between gasps, wiping sweat from your brow. "But if carrying me is on the table, I'm not above playing dead to make that happen."

"Not necessary—I'd carry you anyway, if only to reward you for keeping up this long. You're doing great."

You foot caught a crack in the pavement, nearly hurling yourself into it, but Aaron's hand was there quicker keeping you upright as you tried to ignore the terrifying way your body had reacted to his compliment.

"Okay you can't just say stuff like that while I'm trying to run," you blurted out, avoiding his gaze. "You're trying to kill me, I swear."

You planted your hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath, secretly relieved to have a break—even if it almost involved a face-first meeting with the sidewalk.

"Stuff like what?" He tugged at your ponytail and you swatted his hand.

"Nothing," you said way too quickly, shaking your head like you could physically toss what you said aside. "Forget I said anything. Let's just... keep running."

You quickly realized your mistake as soon as you started jogging again. You would never willingly suggest to keep running. Unfortunately, Aaron was actively aware of this, moving to come up beside you. You didn't need to look at him to know he had the stupidest smirk on his face.

He didn't say anything at first, to your immediate relief, just kept jogging beside you. The silence stretched on, his calm breathing only seeming to make your wheezing sound worse.

"You're breathing too shallow," he said after a moment, his tone completely casual like he wasn't even winded. "Try to take deeper breaths—match them to your strides. It'll make it easier."

You glanced towards him out of the corner of your eye before attempting his suggestion. You had no intention of letting him know that it worked. His ego was far too substantial for that.

"See? You're a natural," he said, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Atta girl."

Your brain flatlined and you almost tripped over your feet again, every rational thought replaced by static. What was wrong with you? You vaguely remembered reading somewhere that people with unresolved daddy issues were prone to developing praise kinks. Was that what this was? Whatever the reason, hearing Aaron talk like that shouldn't make you feel all gooey inside, but here you were, a puddle in running shoes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yup, fine!"

You stared at the ground so intensely, it was a miracle you didn't bore a hole into the pavement. Your voice had betrayed you, far too shaky and way too rushed, and you knew Aaron was probably filing away every bit of your reaction.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand brushing against the back of your neck as he spoke. "Stop staring at the ground. You'll run better if you keep your head up—it'll open your chest so you can breathe easier."

His hand lingered for a second too long than what your body could handle, leaving you completely flustered and fighting every urge to do exactly the opposite of what he said.

"There you go," he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. "That's good, honey. Just like that."

His voice—his god forsaken voice—was like a jolt to your system, and not in a good way. Or maybe it was a good way, which was the problem. It was bad enough to hearing it out here, on the jogging trail, but your brain decided to replay it in an entirely different inappropriate context: one that involved you, him, and a bed.

Your face burned, and you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion, or the very real possibility that your body was too receptive to those words. And now, not only were you fighting for every breath, but you were trying to figure out if the dampness between your legs was entirely from sweat. Surely it was sweat. Right? Gods, you hoped it was sweat.

You stopped so suddenly that Aaron jogged a few steps ahead before he realized you were not longer beside him.

"Okay, I'm calling it. I'm done. Can we please go home now?"

He jogged back to you, an easy smile on his face, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he reached you.

"Alright, we can be done," he teased, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones. "You survived, and you did great. I'm proud of you."

He leaned down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips that made the ache in your body a little easier to ignore.

When he pulled away, you barely managed to keep standing.

Aaron let out a low laugh, his hands squeezing your shoulders. "Alright. What's going on? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said over your shoulder, practically power walking towards the car.

Aaron's laugh deepened and you ignored the funny feeling curling in your chest.

"Sweetheart," he said, gently tugging your elbow to slow you down. "Come on, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine!" You avoided his eyes as you tugged your elbow free. "I'm just tired, and, uh, need a shower."

A cold shower, your brain screamed, but you shoved the thought down.

"I know, I know you're tired," he said, lips curving into a smile, "but that's because you actually pushed yourself. I'm proud of you for sticking with it."

You were pretty convinced you were you were about to go up in flames. Your obituary would read death by too many unnecessary compliments. When your heart inevitably gave out, Aaron would have to explain to Rossi and the others how his dumb smile and sweet words had resulted in second degree manslaughter.

But then you saw it—the smirk. The one that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

"Oh my gosh, you know!" You groaned and threw your hands in the air. "You know, and you're enjoying this!"

Spinning away from him, you stormed to the car, and slammed the door like it might shield you from his stupidly smug face.

You barely had time to exhale before the passenger door swung open, revealing Aaron, casually leaning against the car.

"You know," he said lightly, his tone far too casual for your liking, "slamming car doors isn't a great habit. You could hurt yourself."

"And you know," you snapped back, pointing at him, "torturing your girlfriend isn't a great habit either!"

He leaned in slowly, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed your seatbelt. As he clicked it into place, his face lingered close to yours.

"I wasn't trying to torture you, baby. Just wanted to give you the chance to admit it—that you liked it."

Before you could muster a reply, Aaron's hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb moving along your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was so deep, leaving you no choice but to sink into it, even as the faint remnants of your annoyance tried to surface.

By the time he pulled back, you felt like you were under his spell. Then, without another word, he shut your door and headed to the driver's side.

"That's not fair," you muttered, crossing your arms and pouting as you stared out the window.

Aaron's hand found the back of your neck as he backed out of the parking spot, rubbing gently into smooth circles.

"I don't mean to be unfair," he said with a small smile. "I just needed to hear it, because sometimes people don't even realize what they need until they say it out loud. And I wanted to make sure I didn't misread anything—though I'm rarely wrong, as you know."

"Trust me, you remind me every chance you get." Your tone was dry, but you were well aware that the twitch in your lip was giving you away.

"Alright, smartass," he said, chuckling as his fingers pressed a little firmer into your neck. "Now tell me—how does it make you feel when I say those things to you?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don't know, okay? I just... like it! Do I have to explain it?"

"You don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he said, "but I'd like to know what it is you like so much."

Aaron's hand moved from your neck to your hand, his fingers sliding between each of yours while his eyes stayed glued to the road, a thing that only came from months of familiar motions.

You let out a long breath. "I don't know. I just like hearing it. It makes me feel good. Special, I guess."

"You are special, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to you before returning to the road. "You're my best girl."

Your stomach flipped violently. You shifted again, trying to disguise the way your thighs pressed together tightly as your face burned hotter than ever. The debate earlier in your head was officially over—absolutely not just sweat, you thought miserably.

Aaron let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "Something I said?"

You swatted his shoulder, your glare losing all its bite thanks to the flush all over your body. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"I can't help it," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to get you on edge. "But don't worry—I'll take care of my best girl once we're home."

You slumped in your seat, muttering something unintelligible that made Aaron chuckle again. And even though you wouldn't admit it, you found yourself smiling, already dreading and anticipating whatever he had planned when you got home.

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[arolesbianism]

Mark meeting ded is just gonna be him going btw have you heard of the music producer 8ballin' 👉👈? And ae is just gonna sit there like I've been in every wrong place that you can imagine for the past half a decade you tell me

[xhoneygirlxx]

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

-

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

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[ijwtbap]

ㅤㅤ★ㅤA promise — Bakugō

— Bakugō x GN! reader.

You like Katsuki, he likes you — is a fact not a maybe. He doesn't seem to believe it thought.

a/n. I had to keep my promise ig. Is VERY short so im sorry, also Im bad at english and is my first one shot so have some mercy plz.

You were going insane. Just a little bit. Well, actually, you were ready to rip out your hair and scream into the void, standing naked as flames consumed you. That's kind of insane.

Every time Bakugō referred to you as his friend—even if he only said you weren’t that annoying and didn’t mind having you around (which was close enough)—you wanted to disappear.

You had done everything but treat him platonically. Sure, you could see how holding hands, cuddling, or crying together might seem platonic. But kissing in bed and saying “I love you” in a completely serious way?

You were completely lost.

At first, you thought it was a joke, then maybe just a game to him.

But now? Now you’re convinced he’s just... dense.

You could tell Bakugō you love him dead serious while looking him dead in the eyes, on your knees and with a big sign that said 'plz marry me,' and he would still think you're joking.

And it was killing you.

"Are you going to study or what?"

You were in his bedroom, "studying." Yeah, right—studying. You just wanted to be there with him. You’d barged in without warning, and yet, he hadn’t even questioned your presence.

"No."

You knew he liked you back. There was no way he didn't, but fuck, he refused to acknowledge it.

"I like you."

His eyes widen for a second before he looks back at his notes.

"Shut up."

"I really do, tho."

"Yeah, whatever."

"I love you."

"If you don't stop, I will kick you out."

"I love you."

" __________ "

"I love you so much."

"Stop it."

"I want to marry you, one day when we're adults. Small or big wedding, or none at all, whatever you prefer."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

You two look at each other, him holding his pen so hard that it looks like it's about to break and you looking at him as if he were the most wonderful and prettiest dense idiot you have seen in your life.

"What do you need me to do to make you believe me?"

He ignores you. Mostly because he knows that paying attention to you would just make him more annoyed (because you clearly weren't going to stop) and because he didn't want to accept it.

"Die."

A small smile comes to your mouth. How many people would get offended by that? A lot, but you knew Bakugō didn't mean it.

"You want to recreate Given now?"

Bakugō rolls his eyes, making more notes in his notebook, but you were able to notice a small smirk.

You had forced him to watch it a couple of months ago, and he swears he didn't cry. You knew the truth, though.

"Shut up."

"Shut me up yourself, you coward."

He lets out another scoff, and he continues to avoid your eyes.

"Study already."

You loved Bakugō Katsuki, and he loved you back.

No matter how much time it would take you, you were going to make sure to take his last name and hold his hand in a not-platonic way.

One day.

"I love you."

I totally didn't use like 3 grammar online correctors, and re read this like 20 times (It will still have an issue, and I know it). I also didn't copy inspired my introduction (?) from a random post.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed my bad writing style. Im not doing this again, unless I get REALLY bored.

521 words.

[unpretty]

Im interested by what you said about using Obsidian for writing. I downloaded it and was messing around with it a bit and it seems really interesting and very much like what I'm looking for but certainly like it could be... a lot too lol

Do you have any recommendations for someone wanting to start using it for writing?

step one is to get the longform plugin, that's what lets you use obsidian a little more like scrivener, where every project has its own folder full of markdown files that you can sort freely (these days i'm still in the habit of just naming chapters numbers, but if you actually want chapter titles or something that looks nicer than numbers this is crucial). so in my case I have a folder called Writing, a subfolder of that called Fanfic, and a subfolder of that called Sorrowverse. i right-clicked on the Sorrowverse folder and said "create new longform project", named it Wayne Manor, and then it created the folder with an index. then i moved all my existing markdown files into that folder, and when i opened the Wayne Manor project in longform it asked if i wanted to import those files as scenes (i did).

if you want it to be even more like scrivener you can give each chapter its own folder and then every scene in that chapter its own file. i might go back to this someday but for a long time i was using typora so i've got different habits.

i have not yet found a good way to make backlinks useful in my fiction but i'm sure there's a way. like, it would be neat to be able to see all of sorrowverse on a timeline, or see which fics lowkey reference each other, but if there's an unobtrusive way to do that i haven't figured it out yet. i set a daily goal in longform of 400 words and have it set to apply to all projects but it's still a little iffy if it wants to work right, especially when i'm syncing files via third party cloud storage. being able to start a new writing session helps with this one.

the only files i keep visible in longform are the ones i want to be included if/when i eventually compile the whole project, brainstorming or snippets are in the same folder in fileview but they don't appear in longform. this might be a good use of backlinks actually but i haven't needed to bother with that yet, my files are pretty easy to navigate manually still.

anyway. i actually found it more helpful to use for writing after i started also using it for journaling, since having a daily note to think out loud in means i can open the app up without any pressure to do anything but word vomit, and then as long as i'm in there i can putter around in my other files and things. i also installed the Tasks plugin and created a todo list, a special note that does nothing but tell me everything i want to get done that date, and a template for my daily note that includes all the tasks i completed that day so i can go back and see everything i did.

to start with you can always just write in it the same way you'd write in word, if you're not used to markdown i think there's plugins to give it more of a wysiwyg feel but personally i prefer my little asterisks and whatnots.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Y'all saw this coming. Strap in your seat belts, you sexy people. Daddies back in action. Im sorry if this comes as a shock to people who follow me and dont enjoy NSFW content. It's just what i do here. This is the first nsfw post of Shane on here. Im also sorry to my Moon Knight girlies, Marc will be back again in a while. And remember, if you don't like it...

... don't read it. :))

Nsfw Shane Hcs for the soul ♡

He's a nervous little guy when you ask him for it. He just gets all flustered and will bottom out on you halfway through.

When he's the one asking for it... oh boy.

He's 100% not pressuring about it. He beats around the bush a lot. " I don't know, am I trying to get into your pants? Oh geez, why would I ever want to do that.... " As he's hugging from behind, pushing you into the counter and attacking your neck with sloppy kisses.

He'll deny his intentions on clearly trying to have sex with you as a way to tease you, and then when he gets in bed with you... well... the rest is history.

He runs out of stamina easily, so he likes to start off with foreplay or oral as a way to, as he says, " get the juices flowing " but really just to make sure you're comfortable, and he doesn't hurt you when he actually bangs you.

Horrible, terrible, down bad, filthy, outrageous, uncontrollable breeding kink. Always uses protection, but when the question is brought up of having kids, Lord have mercy, that man is ON HIS KNEES. His ears are PERKED up like a cartoon character. He likes finishing in you, but the idea of raising children with you is something he's always thought about. It's the least thing he can do to contribute to his family; keep the bloodline going.

Not the best performance when he's drunk. Towards the end, he'll get a bit faster, but he will be bottomed out half the time.

I know I'm talking about him bottoming out a lot, but he is a classic, slow, vanilla, missonary kinda guy. Bdsm freaks him the fuck out.

He just really doesn't want to hurt you. He's down for something rougher if that's what you want, but it's only if that what you want. He will always put YOU and YOUR safety before his.

" Am I hurting you? " He will slow down in the middle of your session to check up on you and make sure you're okay and comfortable. " Do you need me to stop? " etc.

And he's funny too. That man is hilarious in bed. He his making references to old movies in bed with you, he's singing songs, he's just being a dork. " You could say I'm rather.. cocky " as he's whipping it out. Really, bad, bad, horrible jokes, but that's the point of it. He just wants to make it more light-hearted for you so that you're happy and content with him.

Sometimes he'll play music. Marvin Gaye is a go-to.

And when he's done, he always gives you a nice massage and cleans you up. On his good days, he'll give you a bath. But his favorite thing is giving you a massage. He's experienced, too, with massaging the cows.

He lets you sleep on his chest when you're both done for the night. The next morning, he feels so. Fucking. Guilty.

" Baby, are you sore? Is there anything I can do? " is all he's able to ask you. He cares about you a lot, and he doesn't want to hurt you. He knows your hips have to hurt, especially with having to do your farm work in the morning. He'll ask you to stay in bed with him, and if you refuse, he'll make you dinner and then watch a movie with you and give you another massage.

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 12 ⬅ch.11

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | wc 3.5k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sooooooooo sorry if this seems ooc for ghost. i wanted to write him acting more empathetic while also maintaining his cold demeanor. i think some people tend to write him one way or the other and so i tried to balance it a bit more to be realistic. but if this felt ooc for ghost im so sorry!! feedback is appreciated so i can improve upcoming chapters! &lt;3

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the startling realization that you were sleeping in simon’s room is what woke you up that following morning. you sat up in his bed, the covers falling away from your chest, and you noticed he was gone. it was strange how this was the second time you shared a bed—completely platonically—with him and he was m.i.a. come morning.

you tried not to think too deeply about it, not wanting to get your feelings hurt even more than they already were. you were able to put what had happened between the two of you in the back of your mind yesterday, squishing down his words that hurt you so badly. 

you looked good in your dress. that’s all. m’sorry.

but that was yesterday. that was when he was the first face you saw after thinking you were about to be tortured. the face that rescued you. that was when he carried you back to base, his arms around you like a safety blanket. when he was the sense of security you desperately needed. when you felt like you needed him. 

this morning, your mind was far clearer. you even realized how stupid you were to let simon be that person for you when johnny was right there. 

you scurried from his room, still draped in his shirt, and made it back to your own. you told yourself you would visit the infirmary today, not for work, but to get yourself checked out. you weren’t hurt too badly, nothing that couldn’t heal with a little time. but still, you should really get checked over. and you were sure laswell or price would want to have a word with you about everything that happened. 

before you even managed to shift through your thoughts, johnny was at your door.

“how’re ya feelin’?” 

you grabbed your toiletries bag and spun to face to scot. “i’m okay.”

he gave you a once over. “are you sure?” he said a bit softer.

you gave him a gentle smile. “don’t worry, i’m just going to shower. then straight to the infirmary to get checked out.” you gave him a mock salute. 

johnny shook his head as he followed you out your door and down the hall towards the showers. “no, not that.” you glanced at him. “well, no, of course i wanted to make sure you were gonna be seen by a medic, but i was referring to the… psychological side of things.”

you laughed at his phrasing. “i’ll be okay, johnny. seriously. i mean, i know what happened terrified me and hasn’t left my thoughts since, but i could be a lot worse.” you were trying to make light of the situation. and while johnny understood that all too well, he still wasn’t convinced you were truly back to normal just a day after your kidnapping. 

you were taken a bit back. for once, soap didn’t seem to appreciate your humor. “and with ghost?” 

you almost dropped your bag, stumbling in your steps. “w-what about him?” 

“i saw him carrying you into base. the way ya clung to him. i just want t’make sure you’re okay.” his eyes trailed the shirt you were wearing—'swimming in' was more accurate—knowing it wasn't yours, but ghost's.

you sighed before spinning to face him. you wanted to make this very clear to soap: “he was the first person i saw. he was the one i saw close on my tail when i was trapped in that truck. he was the face who barged into that room after slaughtering men, pulling me out of that hole. i think i was just overwhelmed and felt like i needed him . y’know… a safety thing. but that has passed. i’m fine. fine .” soap raised a brow, not quite believing you. “nothing happened,” you said a bit bashful, noticing the way soap was staring at you like he thought more had gone down last night, and wearing ghost's shirt sure wasn't helping. “he just kept me company so i could fall asleep without thinking about…” your words trailed off. “point is, i appreciate you looking out for me, but i’m okay. i won’t let him…” a beat of silence passed as you looked for the words. “i won’t read things wrong again.” the sentence was a struggle to get out; like ash on your tongue.

you could see the concern on johnny’s face, so before he could protest and pry more, you slipped into the women’s showers so he couldn’t follow.

after showering and visiting the infirmary—-yes, you have been cleared—-you were making your way to price’s office. you assumed laswell would be there as well. 

you adjusted your black shirt as you strolled the halls, careful to not move in any way that would hurt your sore ribs. you walked past the gym, peeking in to see if you could spot gaz, surprised he hadn’t come to see you yet, and you almost choked on your spit.

you spotted simon—- ghost—- across the room in workout gear, addressing a new recruit. you hadn’t recognized her but you knew there were new recruits coming in this week so you assumed her to be one of them. 

you tried to pull your eyes away, but they were latched on to the tall brute and the shorter woman beside him. ghost hunched over slightly as he spoke to her and you saw her smile. her hand reached out and touched his arm softly and you felt your fists clench. 

ghost wasn’t yours . 

he was barely even your friend. he could flirt with whoever he wanted. it shouldn’t matter to you. and you knew you were overreacting. who's to say they were flirting? you hadn’t known ghost to be the best charmer, so why would he all of a sudden be cozying up to a woman he only just met?

soap’s words popped into your head: come to think of it. i don’t think i’ve known ghost to have hooked up with anyone since i’ve met the bastard.

all these rational thoughts and yet you ignored them. all you felt was a pang in your gut as you watched him instruct her, testing her skills, his hand lingering on her hip a bit too long. his eyes locked on hers. 

you didn’t feel any tears welling—so that was an improvement—all you felt was disappointment. ghost was emotionally unavailable. he also explicitly said he didn’t want you. this fantasy you had of him in your head was purely that: a fantasy. 

you had thought maybe he felt differently with the way his eyes traced your curves last night in the light of the bathroom. that maybe him letting you see him with his mask off was him letting you in. that he wanted to form some sort of relationship with you even if it was foreign to him.

but all of those thoughts went out the door. there were so many reasons why it would never work between the two of you. seeing him with that woman wasn’t what made you feel that way. all it did was remind you of the reality of your situation.

you sulked into price’s office, the smell of cigars filling your nose.

price’s warm greeting, his gentle smile, and his all-over fatherly presence set you back at ease. 

when laswell entered, her soothing hand on your shoulder reminded you that you could live so fucking easily without ghost. you had a family here. and while you had hoped to let ghost become one of those people to you, it wasn’t the end of the world by any means if he didn’t.

a week had passed and you had resorted to pretending like anything private that ever happened between you and ghost had never occurred. you weren’t going to sulk over him any longer. you thought he was attractive. that was it. you hooked up once and it didn’t work out. you were an adult, you could move on. 

you laughed animatedly at soap, grabbing his arm in your fit. ghost spotted you across the training room, your laughter floating over into his space, pissing him off.

he expected you to have wanted to talk to him after that night in his room. but you never did. you never sought him out. never came by to let him know everything at the infirmary checked out okay. granted, he never came after you either. 

he got up when he saw you leaving and followed you out the door. 

“iaso,” he called.

you stopped and spun to face him, smiling. “what’s up, lt.?” 

ghost was a bit taken aback by your friendly demeanor. not that you weren’t a friendly person, but you were acting oddly like nothing ever happened. like ghost hadn’t pulled you into his arms a week ago, his chest pounding and his arms shaking as he held you.

“jus’ wanted to see if you were okay,” he said dumbly.

“all good. don’t worry, i’ve been cleared to be back to work.” you smiled then turned and walked away.

ghost had never been left so dumbfounded before. he cracked his knuckles in annoyance.

you seemed to be ignoring him. 

whenever ghost entered a room you were in, you’d leave. he saw you linking arms with soap as you walked the halls, never meeting ghost’s eyes. he knew soap was visiting you in the infirmary on your breaks and he always seemed awkward when it came up between them. you even managed to get out of a poker session where ghost was present. you had stood up the second he walked into that room, calling it a night and tossing your cards in the middle of the table.

“she’s ignoring me,” ghost huffed as he shuffled through the dossiers on his desk. he was acting like he had any claim over you. like he had a right to your friendship.

“who?” soap asked. ghost looked up and glared at his friend. “i think you give yourself too much credit. she’s not ignoring you, lt. she’s just accepted your rejection and moved on with her life.”

“i didn’t reject her.”

soap rolled his eyes. “you really wanna go down that road?” 

ghost mumbled in annoyance as he stared at the words on the paper before him. 

“didn’t think you’d care, if i’m being honest.”

ghost glared at soap, waiting for him to elaborate since he clearly wanted to further this conversation.

“ her opinion of you ,” soap clarified. “you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing from her, so i just assumed that meant you wouldn’t be bothered by her ignoring you n’all.” 

ghost tapped his pen on his desk. “so she is ignoring me, then.”

“i didn’t say that.”

ghost knew he couldn’t fight logistics with soap, with soap being… soap and all. “we have actual shit t’go over. important intel before we depart friday.” 

soap slipped into the chair in front of ghost’s desk. “you started it.” 

“i didn’t—- bloody hell ,” he grumbled rubbing his hand over his face. soap tried to hold back his smirk. 

“y’know she’s coming with us,” soap said, referencing the mission soon to happen in the coming days based on the information the men had acquired from valeria. 

“well aware,” ghost said flatly. 

the idea of you being forced to be in ghost’s proximity tomorrow, knowing you couldn’t avoid it like you had been, made his chest swell slightly. he didn’t want to admit this to himself, but he wanted you to want him. desperately . and hearing soap talk about you, always seeing the two of you together, ghost felt like he was pushing you straight into his friend’s arms. 

he should have been okay with that. whether he found you attractive or not, he shouldn’t have felt jealous when he saw you with soap. he’s found plenty of women attractive, and plenty of them were involved with someone else. that usually didn’t bother ghost at all. he was fine admiring pretty ladies knowing they would never be his. he didn’t want them to be his. so this resentment he was feeling towards soap was new to him. 

he unclenched his fist. 

“jus’ wanna make sure you’re gonna behave yourself,” soap chimed. 

“christ, johnny. i’m not—”

soap cut him off. “i’m serious, lt. i know i don’t have this kind of authority, but she doesn’t deserve whatever it is that's going on inside your twisted head.” soap gestured widely at ghost, implying he was all sorts of messed up. “i’d die protecting her. and if it means i’d have to die in your clutches, then so be it.”

ghost refrained from rolling his eyes and soap’s dramatics. though, he did admire soap’s loyalty. 

shifting the conversation away from you, ghost debriefed soap on prep for the coming mission, letting him know— almost —everything planned. 

it was late when ghost spotted you. you didn’t see him as he stalked you around the bend of the hallway.

finally, you were alone. not linking arms with soap or laughing with gaz. you were alone as you walked through the halls of the barracks. if you had known ghost would have spotted you, you would have likely stayed in your room. but you had no idea the masked man was trailing behind you. 

ghost hadn't been planning on talking to you, irate by the way you’ve been ignoring him, but when he saw you, his feet moved on their own accord. the hall lights flickered, creating an ominous glow. he surmised you were heading back to the infirmary even though he knew your shift was already over. maybe you forgot something?

and then one of ghost’s steps was a tad too loud because you looked over your shoulder and he watched as your eyes widened momentarily. you scrunched up your nose and faced forward, your pace increasing. “are you following me?”

“this is my quarters jus’ as much as it is yours,” he grunted. 

you rolled your eyes. “well… it's plenty big enough. you could always go a different way.”

“still not talkin’ to me, then?”

you could sense him catching up and it made the hackles on your neck rise. “what’re you—”

“i know you’ve been ignoring me. don’t try t’lie your way outta this.”

you turned around and began to walk backward so you could face him when you spoke. “i’m not really in the mood to have this conversation right now.” you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“well, good thing i wasn’t askin’.”

your mouth parted in surprise at his bluntness. you quickly spun on your heels, not wanting the emotions you had been shoving down for the past week to come back up. if you could just avoid him a little longer, you’d be able to move on. if he would only just—

in your nerves, you reached a dead end of one of the many barren halls. you were going to turn and scurry past him, not even wanting to grab your bag you left in the infirmary any longer, you just wanted to get away from him. but before you had the chance, ghost’s arms were on either side of your head, hands flat against the wall, caging you into his chest. your back was to him and your only view was the blank drywall. the corner he had you trapped in was dark and you figured even if you did spin to face the beast behind you, you wouldn’t be able to make much of him out. you hated that a swirl of arousal filled your stomach remembering him being this close to you in that tiny closet he shoved the two of you into all those weeks ago. 

“ghost, i don’t wanna—”

“ simon ,” he said a little aggressively. 

you gulped, his words grazing the edge of your neck as he spoke. you were quiet as you waited for him to say more. “you sure you’re ready to go back out on location?” he asked, referring to the upcoming mission you were going to be a part of. 

“is that it? you’re worried i’m broken or some shit like that?” your words screamed irritation, but your voice sounded more hurt than angry. “that i don’t know my own limits and can’t decide when i’m good to be back? that i’ll slow you down? i told you i was cleared!” you knew you were inferring a lot from his one little sentence, but you wanted to be mad. to be angry at him. 

“i didn’t say that.”

“no. but it’s what you meant.”

you heard ghost sigh and his hands dropped down to his side. you felt the warmth of his chest still behind you so you didn’t dare move to look at him.

“i know what it’s like t’lose everyone you love,” he started. 

“what does that have to do with any—-?”

“would you jus’ shut up for one second n’ listen for once?” 

you swallowed hard and nodded your head. he let out a breath. he knew he had snapped at you, but this was difficult for him. he wanted to get this out before he second-guessed himself and let you walk away forever. 

“i lost my entire family to men a lot more evil than me. did everythin’ in my power to get revenge. so i know what it’s like to love and t’lose.”

“did it help?” you asked softly. “revenge?”

you could hear the tension in ghost’s words as he mumbled them behind you. the only reason he was able to answer this question was due to the fact that you were turned away from him. if you two had been looking into each other’s eyes… he didn’t think he’d have to ability to open up. “depends how ya look at it. that kind’a dedication to death—never stoppin’ till you feel blood on your hands—takes a toll on ya. i think it’s what made me so… unbearable. but the general doesn’t seem t’think so. made me a stronger soldier in shepherd’s eyes.”

you felt your breath waver as you listened. 

“i wouldn’t have jus’ killed for them, i woulda died. it was years ago now that i was captured on duty. was tortured. buried alive. locked up. abused.” simon cleared his throat. “think it made me unwillin’ to let people in , as you would word it. i don’t know if i could survive another loss like that, like when i lost my mother and brother. s’not a feelin’ i ever plan on livin’ through again.”

“simon…”

“and you, ” he said a bit more potently. “you have been messin’ everythin’ up. when you n’ laswell were taken… it felt like when i saw my brother and his wife dead on their living room floor. the only thing i saw was red. i woulda done anything t’get you back. i couldn’t let this happen again. i couldn’t fail the people i cared about again.”

it pained you to know that simon placed all the blame on anything bad happening to those around him on himself. “laswell, too?” you said, but more as a question. you were purposefully trying to avoid the romantic ideation behind his words.

“no,” he said immediately, without a second thought. “course i wanted her back. but it didn’t feel the same as the way i wanted you.”

i wanted you . those words made your chest tighten. 

“why are you telling me all this?” you finally asked after a lull. 

“i jus’ wanted you t’know that i don’t mean t’hurt you. that maybe i needa try harder. and that… i’m sorry.”

you felt a single tear escape and slide down your cheek. you took a moment to steady your breathing, trying to reel in all of simon’s words.

when you spun to face him, unsure of what you’d find in his expression, you gasped. he was gone. you didn’t even hear him as he took off down the hall with your back still to him. 

eventually, walking alone back to your room, you let the tears fall freely. you cried for simon’s past. for his losses. for your own losses. for the strange sense of love you felt radiating off of him as he told you he’d move the world just to get you back safely. for the stupid feelings you had brewing in your chest. for the way you couldn’t decide if you wanted him to wrap his arms around you or if you wanted to hold him as he told you more. 

simon felt like he couldn’t let someone else in. that he wouldn’t survive it. but you wouldn’t leave him if he did. and you needed to tell him that. you needed to show him that he might be a bit broken, lost from his path, but you’d help him find the light again, as cheesy as that sounded. you would show him how beautiful it was to love even after losing so much. that it was possible. he deserved to be loved. he deserved to be happy. he wasn’t some emotionless robot, no matter what the army thought of him. and you wanted to help him realize that. 

chapter 13 ➡

[majorproblems77]

Linked maze updated which means I'm back! :D

Hello Linked Maze fans! :D

Linked Maze returns with scent pt10, which means I am back to ramble about the small details in the comic because I enjoy it!

If you dont know what Linked Maze is, It's a links meet comic. About the links in a maze.... Self-explanatory really, but trust me it's amazing and I love it. It's great! But also for more mature audiences, so do take care and heed the creator's warnings before going in!

Importantly - Linked Maze and all the art belongs to @linked-maze and its artist @frulleboi, this chapter also had a guest artist, so the second page's art is done by @marenwithanm. And thanks again for the permission to do this! I really enjoy making them!

With that out of the way, My timer is set, grab some snacks and a drink of your choice! And lets get started! :D

We begin with the small bean

He looks so happy, okay, I love him

Aww four, just wanted his sword back. Also here to straight up appreciate the detail with the little ticktacktoe on the scabbard of his sword i love him dearly.

Wolfie looks both Done and worried at the same time.

Also, them discovering Sky's sailcloth! I'm so excited about this okay I want these two groups to find each other so bad.

Also, I was interested cause I dont think we've seen the sailcloth in the story yet. So it's fascinating that it's here. I blame Angel, she has shenanigans that I think work for this. Like imagine when we see Sky and he's like the fuck why do you have my sailcloth I've not seen it since I got here, type thing.

Wind taking charge as he should be.

There's a bunch to unpack here, so just give me a moment.

That's not Sky's sword.

That's Twilight's sword.

The wrappings on the blade and the markings we see on it later match Twilight's sword. (From the character reference sheets.)

Do you have any idea how excited I was when I saw this? Then saw Wolfie's face like

Why the fuck is that there?

I think this tells us two things.

Twilight/wolfie is now able to be armed. So he's got the capability to fight without the wolf form now. So he might transform soon!

Angel/ djævel are using the hero items to bring the groups together for some reason.

But now im considering the implications of having these specific items here. Like, Thats an item from a character from some of the major groups that we know off right now.

Twilight's sword(Twilight, wind) / Sky's sailcloth (Sky,wild,Time) / Four's sword (four, warrior)

Was the idea for them to find it, or for just one of the groups to find it so that they could find the others.

Something to think about.

Moving on!

Me too four... me too

Yes it does. He's sat about five feet from you

Look at his guilty face, he know's but he can't say and he's sad about it.

Warrior looks worried, you think he's thinking of war stuff right now?

A sword planted into the ground with an important item beside it... a sword who they dont know its owner. Its owner who to them could be dead?

Twilight is the only one who know's his sword after all.

Good call Mr. Captain Warrior sir!

Again with the sad wolfie ears, they give me life okay I love him.

Good on Wind for being the one to lead the charge, we need a good vibe like Wind to get us through the shenanigans that I'm sure are going to ensue.

Again Twilight is looking towards his sword. When you think he would be looking towards Wind at this point. But his eyes appear to be looking towards the markings on the sword.

I love his shocked face. He's like

I can't track myself...

Totally not me going to be using this reaction when someone asks me to do something.

Wolfie is the real MVP of this chapter let me tell you right now.

I love this lot they are wonderful

Yes, you look to your sword and think about what you've done.

Sniff sniff out the cinnamon roll wolfie, find him!

Oh man, this update was fun, I got so unbelievably excited about the sword like it's great to basically have a confirmation about something that's been rotating around in my brain since we saw it before.

Thanks again for listening to me ramble my way through another comic update! :D

And thank you again @linked-maze for letting me do this, i will be continuing them (as long as you let me:) ) cause this was so much fun!

Thats me done for this update tho, so I'll be headed out!

Have a great night! :D

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & THEIR STARBUCKS ORDERS .

characters. xiao zhongli diluc kaeya childe neuvillette scaramouche alhaitham kaveh & gn!reader genre. fluff. crack. if you get the reference from the first three categories, u get a kiss on the head n a cookie an. thought this would be haha funny. please laugh | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

i'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino made with skimmed milk, no whipped cream. please, put that in a grande cup? but use the same amount of coffee you would put into a tall. that way there's about an extra inch of room on top – to stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee, at all.

CHILDE, kaveh, kaeya. (you.)

i'll have a tea. just... tea? (you look at him quizzically.)

ZHONGLI, xiao, diluc, neuvillette, alhaitham.

he'll have your green darjeeling tea, which i'm sure you know cannot be steeped for more than ninety five seconds.

KAVEH. (also you.)

gets a black coffee. doesn't tell the barista his name / gives the barista a fake name to use.

SCARAMOUCHE, xiao, alhaitham.

doesn't actually go to get coffee. believes in not being able to sleep, yadda yadda.

NEUVILLETTE.

is lactose intolerant (accepted it bc of you)

SCARAMOUCHE. xiao. alhaitham. neuvillette.

is lactose intolerant, but doesn't care. #yolo #needsahuglater

KAVEH, childe.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-)

[magknightidv]

Richard sterling x prince (hunter) reader. I really like the classics 😒. I also think it would be a cute dynamic

Uh, one second while I just- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH.

Alr thank you for your time I'll get to writing now :3 I'm going out on a limb and guessing you want a male reader and not a gender neutral reader, but lmk if you want me to rewrite it for that.

Disobedience.

(Was written before I gained better understanding of his character so he may be ooc)

Masterlist

Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect of an Idv fanfic ig. Swearing, Mentions of aggression. (They kinda hate eachother through the first bit but trust the process), Fluff :3

Info: I originally intended to go for headcanons and then short little drabbles.. but ig this is what you get when you're hit with horrific brainrot for one character. [WRITTEN BEFORE HIS OFFICIAL RELEASE, I DONT REMEMBER IF PEOPLE LEAKED HIS ABILITIES SO IM KEEPING THAT DESCRIPTION MINIMAL]

Richard Sterling x Male! Hunter! Prince! Reader

---

This Manor isn't to my liking. Too small. Compact. Nobody listens to me either. Disrespectful little rats. Have they no idea who I am?

Have I really been forgotten by the world that quickly? Surely not. Sister would not have let that happen, I'm sure. Of the entire family, she loved me. She saw me. She saw me as I am, not as the misconceptions they've had of me since the day I was born.

My eyelids finally force themselves open as the curtains of the room I've been placed in are pushed open by an unremarkable face I will likely never remember. Nobody of importance, however, the woman bows and makes a swift exit as she meets my eyes. She had quickly muttered something along the lines of "Breakfast is ready to be served."

Hm. Food didn't seem to even get a rise out of me anymore. The thought having lost its appeal after my incident. Court of fools. Court of shrivelled cocks and frog faced women. Neither appealing yet praised as though they are Gods greatest gifts. Can't even protect their prince from something as simple-minded as poisons in his meals. I suppose I should make an appearance before my "games" today, see who I am to be matched against to begin with.

The newest survivors are often who I am matched with as I am a new hunter. The Lady Nightingale, as I have learned to refer to her as, has insisted that it is the best way for us to adapt to our situation. The Fire Investigator seems particularly taken by the poor burnt Puppet man. Ms Mora, although sometimes able to fool me, often lacks the correct facilities to correctly defend herself against me. However, the role that catches my eye upon the list of survivors I am to play against is The "Knight". A name not seen by the other hunters, according to Mr Desaulnier. He claims to have heard whispers amongst the staff attending to us all but he merely thought it to be just rumours and gossip. Of all the Hunters, Joseph Desaulnier has been the best example of what a friend is in this sort of situation. He has been respectful and taught me the ropes all he asks in return is my reciprocated respect.

My eyes scan over the heads of the survivors currently nearby, all familiar faces in a sense. Although I have not been here long, I am aware of the majority of the survivors present in the manor and their general styles. Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose.

♡♡♡

I have vague memories of a handful of matches I've played in this place. The Red Church. Lots of walls and the main church building is rather open, often a cipher placed on there making the chase for the survivors slightly harder if they do not get enough distance in time. My goal for this match, however, is not to find my usual survivors. I understand them, I wish to study the new puzzling enigma that is the "Knight".

An odd sort of sight is given to us hunters that allows us to see the machines being worked on. Slight shakes on multiple at once, its only a matter of figuring out which would be best to go to. Church it is. Whoever is there, regardless of it being the one I want or not will likely try to pass off the kite to another as there was a sudden switch of the journalist to the composer. I am more likely to find one of their decoders but one can only hope to be so lucky.

As I make my way to the church an odd figure is there to greet me. He looks up from the machine in shock and takes a defensive stance, this allows me to get a better view of the man. His hair is long and perhaps considered unneat but in a charming sort of way. He wears an outfit that exudes the very concept of nobility to a high level most of my fathers court could not even pull off. His face is angular and a beauty mark sits below his lips to his right side. He regains his composure as he realises I am not here to attack him. The church is quiet as a cipher is finished most likely by the composer in the far corner. Aside from the large popping noise it makes nothing is said between us, not until he decides to open his lips.

"Are you not the one sent to hunt us all? I am I truly so intimidating that you have become incomplete." Stern words, harsh even but it does not bother me as it is the sort of taunting I have received many times through my time. His eyes narrow viciously. Two colours? I would not have noticed had I not taken this time to study him, his left eye a stony blue colour and his right, a deep brown with green tints in both. At this point to have been able to see this I have since gotten closer subconsciously. As though drawn to his prescense. I catch myself before i get too caught up in it all however.

"I am the Prince. Your Prince. Show more respect, if you truly deem yourself to be an honourable knight." He seems to smirk at my title and his confidence only appears to double.

"So a spoiled brat, demanding obedience as though all around are his new pet puppy dogs?" He's trying to get a reaction. His arrogance is almost reflective of my own however he must have a means to be doing this or is it simply for his own pleasure, as my reason had been to observe. "How rude. You are no Prince of mine, not until you prove it. So, shall we dance, Your Grace?"

My composure slips at the words and I feel the angered snear take over my features, my stance becomes more offensive and I begin to hastily move towards the cocky man. "Speak not of being a brat. You're disobedience will get you nowhere but a chair back to the manor."

The chase was not as long as I was expecting, I suppose he truly was arrogant in his abilities today. Time will tell if he masters his skills. A tie was all I could manage with the hinderance the Knights and my initial meeting gave me. I am forever grateful that the Faro Lady believes she can be a rescuer with her ability, a terrorshock is all it takes.

The Knight appears to want to become my antithesis. So that is all he shall be. An idea abstracted from my own and strange.

☆☆☆

- After the first meeting they appear to be forced together through consistent matches against one another or rumors spreading that the two knew eachother prior to the manor.

- False rumors but you suppose it is not completely unreasonable that a prince and a knight, or so his name claims him to be, to be closer than other roles within the manor.

- He says little to others, and when he does it is often sickeningly sweet words. Sugarcoated truths made to seem like the words are kinder than they are just to draw others in.

- few had fallen for it so he had abandoned such a tactic in favour of bothering you in some form.

- be it in matches, his improvement in the way he moves through each map having improved significantly. Easily gliding past obstacles and dodging your skills. A real pest.

- Tension seems to continuously rise with no seeming resolve in sight. That is until one day you walk past the music room.

- Expecting the violinist on the other side of the door as the melody continues on, only to be met with the closed eyes of the Knight as he plays a somber tune.

- You go unnoticed until the end of the song, a smile forming on your face. His eyes flash open as though some otherworldly being made him aware of your presence.

- A silent understanding forms between the two of you. As though no words were ever needed between the two of you, simply because you both understood.

- The tension dissipates within seconds.

- You and the "Knight" seem to find a deeper understanding of eachother over time. He learns of your past and attempts to sympathise with your unjust demise, while he shares stories of his past before the loss of his family.

- He wishes to find his 'sister' but as time passes he finds himself drawn to you, wishing never to leave your side.

- That is exactly what he does. He takes the role of a true Knight that protects his master, although he still has a tongue as sharp as a blade and swift wit that goes completely unmatched by most others in the manor.

- He cannot seem to ever truly listen to your commands, but suppose it is the thought that counts.

---- fin.

OKAY I LOWKEY FELT I WAS WAFFLING ON AND FORGOT WHAT I WAS WRITING, I DIDNT EVEN ADD SOME OF THE STUFF I WANTED TO CAUSE MY TIMES FOR WRITING WERE SO CLUNKY BUT HEY I GOT IT DONE EVENTUALLY!!

(Not proof read, I'll go back and get that done lol)

[captainn-hook]

Character analysis on Prince Sidon (BOTW vs TOTK)

One thing I love about totk is how the game addresses Sidon’s trauma.

In botw you see how desperate he is for his father’s approval, it’s like Mipha set an impossible standard for dying not only for her domain and her people but for the whole kingdom of Hyrule. In their father’s eyes, she’s the perfect child, not only in personality but also in the way she’s honoured her family. Sidon sees how his father thinks of her, and although the king doesn’t do it consciously, he always put her on an impossibly high pedestal, and Sidon grew up believing that he HAD to meet that expectation, and that he would never, no matter how hard he tried.

When Link tames Vah Ruta and they both go to see the king, he tells his son:

“As your father, I am proud of you for fighting the Divine Beast alongside Link. You have grown much recently. I know you will be a worthy heir when your time comes.”

Then Sidon bows his head, as if he’s overcome with emotions because his dad tells him he’s proud of what he’s accomplished. King Dorephan isn’t a bad guy, don’t get me wrong, but the grief of losing his daughter (in this case, he thought she went missing and had been in the DB for 100 years, he didn’t know she died) made him sort of lose sight of Sidon’s achievements in those 100 years because he was so racked with worry and guilt. So although the king isn’t a bad father, he fails to reassure his son that he doesn’t need to do anything to make him proud (even though Sidon had definitely done stuff to make his dad proud over the years).

(Btw im pretty sure tripple digits in age is considered teens or early adulthood for Zora, so he’s still pretty young, I imagine around Link’s age if he were Hylian)

But that’s about all we get in botw.

So now we move on to totk. And oh boy do we get a load of Sidon angst. Some people might disagree with me but having read between the lines of what Lady Yona talked about (and just WHAT she actually said) in the first half of the water temple quest (before we find it, when we’re up in Mipha court), it really is angsty.

She’s aware of the fact that his sister’s death affected him a lot and still does despite knowing that her spirit moved on, and it (at this point) has started to affect their relationship.

Yona and Sidon have a disagreement before/after the battle with the Sludge Like, where they argue about him going with Link to this pillar of light that has suddenly appeared. It starts with Sidon saying: “Lady Yona! It is far too dangerous for you to be here” in reference to the sludge, but she has none of that.

She tells him that she wants him to go to the pillar with Link, and that: “For a long time, I have been concerned that you are holding yourself back and not acting as freely as I would have expected.” This has some credit because it’s mentioned somewhere how they were both childhood friends, and the Zora live long lives so it’s safe to assume their childhood is prolonged, which means that they’ve known each other for a very long time. Yona knows how he acts and behaves, his mannerisms and his fears, and that’s why she wants to push him to face them.

She tells him that if he goes with Link they’ll be able to overcome this problem, but he hesitates. She notices, asking him what is troubling him, and he hesitates again to speak what’s on his mind. This is when the Sludge Like comes in, and after the battle, the conversation continues.

Sidon hurries back to Yona and says: “Thank goodness. Lady Yona, if something had happened to you... I...” and there’s where it becomes clear just how terrified he is of losing her. He doesn’t finish the sentence, though, he changes the subject and tells her that she should go back to the domain in case more monsters show up. She tells him that he should focus on what Link said and that he can leave the court to them (Yona and the others that came with her). Sidon replies with: “W-well... Of course it would be best for me to accompany him. However, I cannot leave you alone in this dangerous place!” He’s ignoring what’s best and instead focusing on the safety of his betrothed, because of course he would! A monster just showed up and it took both Link and Sidon to take it down, imagine if neither of them were with her, what would happen? What would he do if she got hurt? And then the following dialogue happens (you dont need to read the whole thing, you can just skip to the bold parts):

Yona: “Did you not entrust this task to us already? We will not be on our own for long. We shall be just fine.”

Sidon: “But…”

Yona: “Sidon, my darling... I truly appreciate that you worry so for my safety. It speaks to the kindness in your heart.

But you are the prince of the Zora. One day, you will lead the people of your beloved domain.

I can see right through you, whether you want me to or not. You are yielding to the fear of losing someone you love again.

You must overcome your past and face whatever the future holds with courage.”

Sidon: “But... I...”

Yona: “Enough is enough! You are not acting like yourself! You must leave this place to me!

Sweet Sidon... Do not get lost in the past. You must keep moving ever onward. Just follow your heart, as you always do!”

Sidon: “Like my old self... Like I always do...”

Yona: “It is all right. I swear it. I am not going anywhere.”

Sidon: “I see... And there it is, clear as day... I was giving in to my fear of once more losing someone I love... I… I…

You are right, Yona! I will not give in to this fear! Nor forsake my trust in you! I leave this place to you, my love.”

[skip]

Yona: “All this time he was clinging to regret over being unable to save his precious sister, Mipha... My poor, tormented Sidon.

And to think he was unknowingly paralyzed from taking action because he feared losing me as well...

Yet he has overcome this trial and placed his faith in me. At last, the Sidon I know and love has come back to me.”

During this conversation, Sidon hesitates more than once and you can see it starting to irritate Yona because she knows the potential he doesn’t see in himself, because it’s not just fear of losing a loved one, but it’s his own insecurity from not being able to save Mipha.

He doesn’t care that he was very young and wouldn’t have been able to anyway, he just cares that he couldn’t. In his eyes, he failed to save his sister. And I’m not going to go too deep into this point but it’s clear that she was playing both older sister and mother, because we can assume their mother died a while back (she’s never mentioned and it’s just the two of them and their father even as far back as age of calamity if you want to include that).

What I’m saying is that with technically both the loss of his mother and his sister, it’s safe to assume that he feels some sort of responsibility for not being able to help, even if he was too young to do so, his disregard for the age he was at the time shows how much weight was left on his shoulders after Mipha died.

He never expected to be the heir to the throne, the sole survivor of his family (along with his dad), sure he’s a prince and princes have responsibility, but Mipha was always going to be in the spotlight (not that I’d imagine him jealous of this, it’s simply just a fact, and I think he might have actually even been comfortable with that), she was always going to be the Zora Champion and then Queen one day, so to have all of that suddenly dumped on him after the calamity as a literal kid would’ve undoubtedly had its effect on him.

Yona understands this, she tells Link, knowing he’s probably caught on, how he was “clinging to regret over being unable to save his precious sister, Mipha...”.

She has to reassure her love that she’s okay. “It is all right. I swear it. I am not going anywhere.”, she comforts him because she knows he needs it, he needs her to say it to him because that’s the only way he will believe she is in fact okay.

But his character develops. Sidon realises that in fearing for Yona, he has made her feel as if she isn’t trusted. He recognises the position he’s put them both in, him worrying relentlessly and stressing out about his loved ones because of his trauma, and her having to watch him fall down this never ending rabbit hole and being unable to do much about it because all he tries to do is shelter and protect her, even when it’s unnecessary.

But she does what she can anyway, and it pays off, because he comes back to reality and understands that although there will always be the risk of losing her, he knows that she is more than capable of taking care of herself. He knows of her strength, it was just hard for him to see the situation from her point of view. But she pushes him to do so, and he betters himself for her.

I think he’ll always have some small hint of this trauma response hidden away, but after this discussion, he’s got a firm hold on it, and is willing to control his fears for the love of his life so that they can start to build a life together without the sense of utter doom and despair over his past looming over them both.

I’m glad the writers did this, and didn’t just make them seem like this perfect couple with no issues, it shows a real and healthy relationship, and it shows that Sidon isn’t this perfect person and that he indeed has faults of his own.

That’s my take on it, anyway.

[campbyler]

Hello!!

I’ve had an unpublished modern au byler fic in the works for an embarrassing amount of time and I’ve noticed that you two talk about characterization a lot, which has been my main struggle. I’ve figured out choices to make for characters and how they relate to choices and characteristics of the canon characters in the show, but I’m not sure if the reasoning behind those choices and traits will translate to readers.

I love the fic and I feel like y’all did a great job with making those reasonings clear in your writing without directly saying it, so I’d love to know if you have any specific tricks for that!

Also sorry if this kind of formal, I’m stuck in email mode with finals coming up :|

hello! soooo sorry this is such a late response — i was thinking it over when it came in and then i ended up talking about something similar on another ask and totally blanked 😔 thank you so much for asking for our input, i’ll try to be as concise as i can! (<- edit from future me who has finished typing up her answer to this ask: famous last words. you were not concise. at all. oh my god i’m sorry) i know you said you already made your initial characterization choices and everything so please bear with me while i word vomit and rehash what was probably part of your thought process anyways just to be able to follow my own train of thought lol

some general thoughts here that thea and i have been mulling over for the last few months regarding how we’ve written our fic and choices we have made for it: we’re both well aware that acswy is not everyone’s cup of tea for many reasons, but i’m specifically bringing this up in response to your ask because every once in a while, we do see someone refer to our mike and will as being written out of character, whether or not that’s a deterrent for them in reading. and i want to make it clear that this doesn’t bother us and nothing im about to say is meant to sound defensive or like we’re making a case to people who feel this way — we have our reasons for making the decisions that we did and also already heavily retconned our og concept for them on account of it having been pretty ooc at the time, even to us, so we’re confident with where we are now — but it has made us think about what people actually consider to be “out of character.” this brings me to my first point re: characterization which is, to us, the importance of differentiating between something that the character in the source material doesn’t/probably wouldn’t do versus something that is more of a direct contradiction to the character themselves. for example, we’ve seen people say (often while reading for the first time) that will is ooc specifically in the first couple chapters of acswy, a big reason being because he’s “mean to mike.” it is, of course, vastly different from how he acts in the show and is probably a slightly jarring dynamic to be dropped into right off the bat, especially since the entire premise of the fic is that the reader has almost zero context for why he’s behaving this way, and even more so at the beginning of the fic before his and mike’s relationship develops further. to me and thea as writers, the importance lies more so in the context for it all: how mike and will would turn out after growing up without each other as best friends, with a lot of the cultural pressures of the 1980s removed but having some new ones of the 2010s/20s introduced; not going to high school together, being in the same friend group for years and getting closer over time with many interests in common, but also facing a lot of conflict and having that friend group be geographically separated while a lot of it goes down.

and with this context, what we would consider to be ooc would be if we just like. made will a straight up DICK or something lol. no nuance involved, constantly berating mike with no reason to do so, even with their unknown history, like just ragging on him all the time and never backing down, even when mike isn’t engaging (side note: giant personal pet peeve of mine that max constantly gets written this way but i digress). we see in the show that will is often snarky and sarcastic and will stand up for himself when needed, especially with mike — which imo is another sign of will’s trust in him and their bond, that he can be honest with mike and not fear genuine retribution, and in acswy, he knows mike will meet him where he’s at. he sometimes isn’t afraid to hit a sore spot, but he would never ever just be a jerk for the hell of it -> we even see him apologize after their fight in s4, despite it clearly being a very emotional moment for him and a lot of truth behind what he was saying. whether he intended for it to come out that way or not, he still felt bad for reacting that way and apologized to mike’s face about it. likewise, there’s a reason acswy will acts the way he does with mike specifically, and we were also intentional with making mike match his energy like he does in canon, which will counts on, even — the way these boys BICKER, oh my god — and he has his own ways of pushing will’s buttons which prove to be very effective. even in the early chapters there are a lot of moments of softness and real friendship between them that (we hope!!) make it pretty clear that it takes some effort to maintain this facade, that there is more than enough of their “canon” bond and dynamic and chemistry where being friends and having fun together is a much more natural state to exist in, and is where they usual end up during those brief periods where they let that mask slip. same principle if we had made mike some uber-jerk who had completely different interests than he does in the show (we are so glad that book annotator and zelda fan mike wheeler is ringing true for you all ☺️), or someone who’s super self confident and popular and charming (outside of will’s very unreliable pov) once he and will start hooking up. i think most people would look at that and look back at canon mike wheeler and say yeah that is Not my mike, because making will an actual asshole or making mike any of these things would be going against core character traits that are central to their arcs in the show. will wouldn’t be will if he was generally a confrontational dick, and mike wouldn’t be mike if he was popular and exuded self confidence and so on. that’s just not them! so to summarize, i guess the question to us is more along the lines of “would they ‘not do this’ in the show out of circumstance/lack of necessity (e.g: canon byler going to the same schools until s4, never having a reason for rivalry to develop, growing up living in close proximity to each other and all of their mutual friends, etc) or would they ‘not do this’ in the show because it’s antithetical to the way they have been written?” we find it much more interesting to put a character in a situation and then essentially work backwards in a way to see how they would react to it, rather than putting them in situations that correlate to things we have seen before, and therefore would probably result in them reacting in a way we have seen them do before.

and now coming back to what i think you were actually asking: i think my biggest tip to making those references without it being said outright is honestly just to have faith in both your readers And the creative choices you make. which sounds like a bit of a cop out answer but i simply can’t understate the important of trusting your readers to pick up what you’re putting down, and to trust that they’ll read between the lines for you. a lot of my favorite characterization moments in aus are ones that are really really subtle, where a character does or says something that is clearly a callback to something in the source media, but it isn’t explained in a way that’s actually calling attention to it — it always seems much more natural that way, like whatever they did is just a progression of who they are in that story instead of the author trying to make a point or force a connection. just off the top of my head a small example might be how i see so many authors in non-magic/no upside down aus still make will really struggle with the cold, often just as a throwaway line or paragraph which imo is much more effective for me than trying to explain why he’s feeling this way. or having him enjoy the same media as in the show in a slightly varied and less direct way (e.g: being into the new star wars shows as a continuation of his canon interests, putting him in theater club to play off of the posters we saw in his room, etc). i think it also helps to have something specific in mind that you’re trying to tie back, like an important moment for that character’s story or something that stood out in the source material. like, i love writing lucas and dustin bickering over stupid stuff bc it takes me back to them in s1 in the principal’s office or s2 in general, or one of my personal favs in my own fics was one where i had will be on a constant rotation of fun patterned socks. he’s creative, he’s an artist, it’s (hopefully) a pretty clear connection to make once i write it in, and i really do think a modern version of him would get a kick out of something like that! and sometimes people just won’t pick up on what you’re trying to say and that’s okay too! everyone reads fics a little differently so some connections might be more obvious to some people than others and so on. from my experience as a reader, i find it pretty easy to connect the dots between an intentional and thoughtful moment of characterization vs one that doesn’t quite hit the nail on the head, or the author felt the need to spell out for the reader which maybe took me out of the moment a little too much or something. to me, making those choices and translating canon to an au is honestly the hardest part, especially with a modern au and a show like st that is So defined by the period it’s set in, so if you’ve already got that out of the way i genuinely think you have the rest of it in the bag as well. unless you worked through it in the month it took me to get to this in which case i am so so so sorry LOL

okay that’s been my word vomit of the day, hopefully any of this made sense or was useful at all, but thank you again for your kind words and support and for thinking to ask us! always always happy to chat writing, even if it takes me a million words to do it 😗

[cupcakeslushie]

Okay. I've been tip-toeing around this AU for a while now, but I just got caught up, and now I think I have a (decent) grasp on what's going on. So I wanna go over everything I know so far to see if I'm right or wrong on anything. Don't know if you'd be willing to correct me or not. Either way, I hope my mistakes can help you understand what to clarify to other fans like me. But, I also have some questions. You probably won't be able to answer most of them, but it's at least worth a shot.

First, where's Venus? Like, why is she not in your comics that are (sort of) separate frome the canon now story. The ones that skip to the future way after all the turtles reunite. Did she die? Did she escape? Is it because she wasn't introduced yet when you made those comics?

Two, why do you keep on making references to the future timeline? I know you're planning on possibly making your own stuff leading up to the events of the movie. It just gives me a jumpscare when I see certain...imagery in those comics. I guess you're hinting at what your version of the future apocalypse would look like, but it just hurts to see. Specifically in the comic explaining both the events and aftermath of the movie and the bad future timeline. It's starting to really confuse my brain as to where this story is headed. What's meant to be the main focus? The Hamto's reuniting? The aftermath? Or the future?

Third, did you make all those min-comics before you started the actual AU? Or did you do them during?

Fourth, are any of those mini-comics relevant to the actual story now? Or have you changed your mind on a few things? It's just that everything is so all over the place, I don't really know whether to trust if they're accurate. I know most of them are just there for funzies, but the longer ones concern me. I guess I'm just not used to the storyteller doing sequel, start, prequel, start, sequel, prequel, prequel, sequel, and then end. Or maybe it's just me, and I'm sleep deprived.

My little observation speech is gonna take a while for me to get out in your asks because when I get theoretical, my speech gets long, and my proper English goes down the drain. So I'll be back. I appreciate your work very much. Despite the pain it causes me, it's still amazing.

I’ll try my best to clear up what confusion I can!

1. As far as Venus. The answer is kind of a mix of, I was still figuring out her design and backstory while coming out with some of those early comics, and then, once I had that down, I wanted the boys to grow strong bonds as a main cast. That’s why a lot of the side characters are only making small appearances in the Sep!AU Life stories, as those are mainly for the boys reconnecting. (Usagi shows up the most because I love him and am totally biased towards him).

This maybe hasn’t been stated outright, but I wasn’t really expecting so many ppl to like Vee as much as they do, and now im trying not to spoil too much of her story. It’ll unfortunately just take us a while to get to the meat of it. Since the boys reconnecting takes up a lot of the early s1s2 story, Im trying to follow the familiar Rise blueprint of Draxum, Shredder, Krang, and then in s3 we’ll have crazy fun new stories with the extra characters.

Ive also decided to take this little nugget from one of the Q&As, and use it for Venus instead of Jennika. It was a much needed bit of inspiration to explain why Venus sorta disappears for a while and will go through some major physical changes (not yet revealed) before the family can figure out a way to reach her.

2. I’m not sure if you mean jump scared in a bad/triggering or neutral way, but if you need me to tag anything on those posts please let me know!

The glimpses of the future timeline, are being scattered throughout wherever they parallel the present story in little ways, but that’s only for now. As we get closer to the movie plot, bigger chunks of the future will be revealed, because the future versions of the boys will have a larger role to play in the present timeline. So we will need more backstory than what the canon got. And also I just enjoy drawing my future versions so sometimes I don’t think too hard on a reason. I just like throwing them at ppl with no warning or reason.

When s2 ends, I plan on collecting all the future related stuff that’s been released, and recapping it for easier reading. Right now, it’s just little sprinkles of foreshadowing to give ppl an idea that, ‘oh crap. The doomed timeline is a bummer’. In my mind, I guess i thought it’d be kinda like a fun scavenger hunt for clues, but maybe ppl don’t like that 😅

3. All of the side-stories were written as the main comic was/is being released. A lot of them resulted from asks that just spawned the need to expand on certain ideas, or a desire to give all the turtles their time to shine.

For instance, when I was doing Donnie’s section of the main comic, it was a good few months where we hardly saw anyone but him and Venus. I wanted to just mix it up, and give Raph some love with his ‘Raph Time’ short. When Leo was front and center in the main, we hardly saw the others, so Mikey and Donnie got their little ‘Secrets’ short (and it was also I fun thank you for EW making it so far in the tmnt sep competition).

4. Anything that has been reworked/revised or just plain dropped should have an ‘Edit’ note because yes—I have gone back and changed some things, but more so from the asks i got in the early days, and some movie idea drafts.

All the short comics done in the last year, especially the ones that are listed in my pinned post, are canon and fall somewhere in the timeline. They’re like supplemental reading though—extra meat to give the world and the characters more personality. They do have particular backstory plot and important info in them, but nothing that shouldn’t eventually be re-visited/repeated in the main story.

um I hope that cleared up some things! I know it’s kind of a crazy amount of lore. I’ve tried my best to organize it in the pinned post, huge timeline, and search bar tags, but I know it’s getting harder and harder for newer ppl to jump in as it just get bigger. Thanks for reading regardless!

[cripplecharacters]

hi! i saw the ask you recently posted regarding the amount and date of asks currently in your queue, and im not sure if i understand the response fully. as you said your queue currently contains asks from early 2020, does this mean that at the moment the average time for an ask to be answered is about 4 years? this is not a complaint or anything of the sort, i understand and appreciate the massive amount of work you put into these answers - im just asking to know whether i should send in a question myself, as i usually dont work on building a character for several years, so i would just be burdening you with yet another ask that would no longer be applicable by the time of an answer. again i apologize if this comes off as rude and i really dont intend to be demanding, i just want to inform myself on how this blog works so i dont add to your workload needlessly. thanks for all the great work you do here!

Hello!

To clarify: The average time for an ask to be answered is NOT four years.

There isn't really an average wait time per ask since it differs so greatly but I'd say it's usually no more than a couple months? Somebody can correct me if I'm wrong though😅

Depending on the ask, it may be answered almost instantly and chucked into the queue or it may sit in our inbox for a while before somebody can get to it. This all depends on a few factors, including:

What's the ask about? If it's something that multiple mods can answer (Such as questions about autism, mobility aids, etc.), then it will likely be answered sooner. On the other hand, an ask about something more specific that fewer mods can answer (Such as progressive vision loss or albinism) will likely take a bit longer.

How detailed is the ask? If it's a question that's more simple and can be answered without as much effort/energy, it will usually make it's way into the queue quicker than a question that's more detailed/specific to the asker's story/characters, which will take a bit longer.

What topics does the ask deal with? Sometimes there are asks with heavier topics that can be more difficult to deal with. In my experience, I find that I have trouble spending too much time on these asks at once and I'll usually draft an answer and then go back to them after a few days.

This is by no means an official 'why your ask hasn't been answered yet' post, just some clarification and a few of my own observations but hopefully it's helpful!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

Editing to add:

A huge part of why there’s such a big backlog is also that, for around a year or more, there was really only one active mod on the blog.

As you can imagine, this blog is kind of a lot for just one person to run. So the backlog built as it was much harder for just one person to do it.

For reference, we now have 10-11 mods, which helps us be able to do more questions.

Hope that helps for some context!

Mod Sparrow