#you always got a sense of what the author really wanted to come thru when they read their own work. so i wanted to link her reading

[chimeracreates]

four / do not try to prove your / what is the word / humanity — Turing Test_Love by Franny Choi

[amsgrey]

Clouds

resquested by @rainechase45

warnings: descriptions of a car accident/crash, reader sustaining mild injuries in said crash, mention of blood and broken bones (not in-depth), description of hypothermia + hypothermia-related symptoms, reader really just going thru it in every way, metaphors for death, very bad metaphor writing

Authors Note: I got about 2000 words into this before i remembered that americans have different cars to kiwis. Hopefully, any mistakes are fixed but if they're not, it's because kiwis drive on the left side of the road not the right. 

When you first got your driver's permit, Will and Jay wouldn't let you drive without them. Even though you had completed the course and passed the driving test, they still didn't want you driving alone. Which wasn't an issue really, when you didn't have your own car anyway.

Now you have had your license for almost ten months. Will let you borrow his car from time to time. Today was one of those days. A friend from school lived outside of the city and Will had let you borrow his car to go see them. The drive was only about 45 minutes, not too long with your music blasting. Will and Jay were both working late, so you stayed for dinner with your friend and then started the drive home. It was 7 pm at least by the time you hit the road. The temperature was already 8 °F and only grew colder.

You always hated driving at night and in the rain, but both at the same time was a nightmare. It wasn't just rain now, sleet came down so hard and fast your wipers hardly had time to keep up. Driving in these conditions was dangerous, even for experienced drivers. So you slowed down, turned down the music and tried to limit the distractions. If you crashed Will's car he would never let you drive ever again.

Even with the wipers at full speed and your high beam lights on, the sleet made it near impossible to see. There was no one else on the road, at least, not in front of you. There was an SUV behind you in the left lane, you caught glimpses of its shape through the sleet every now and again. They were going much faster than you were, steadily becoming a larger shadow in your mirror. Eventually, you could see their lights fully in your mirrors. You let out a grumble as you realized they too had their high beams on. Flipping the tab on your rearview mirror didn't change the fact the wing mirrors were blinding you too.

"What on earth," You groaned, the only other car on the road, the only one you had seen in the last 20 minutes was burning holes in your eyes.

Everything changed so quickly. The SUV was speeding up, gaining speed even against all the wind and sleet. Then the car was hydroplaning on the ice and sleet on the road, it swung out of control, swerving from their lane and into your own. You couldn't look away from the mirror, watching in horror as the car kept spinning out of control. It slammed into the side of your car, hitting hard against your door as it pushed you off the road. Both of your cars slid down a bank, only coming to a stop when there was nowhere else to go.

You could feel the seat belt cutting into your chest, you wanted to claw it away but it wouldn't budge. The glass from the now smashed window was cutting through your skin, on your face, your arm, even a few pieces had cut their way through your jeans.

The cold was what kept you conscious. It flooded into your car, breaking the bubble of warmth and ripping away any sense of comfort you had seconds earlier. You weren't sure if it was tears or blood running down your face, but either way, you tried to clear your mind. There was a first aid kit in the glove box, one Will had made, if you could reach it you could help yourself. 

You forced yourself to go through the checklist Will ingrained in you. Starting with your head, you made note of the concussion you likely had, then your neck, whiplash for sure. Your chest next, which was in pain from the seatbelt, but nothing else you could tell for now. Your left arm was broken, but that was a problem for another time. Your legs were squished, but you should move your feet and toes without any pain. That was as good as it was going to get, you had to get out of here. The longer you stay in here, with the sleet soaking through your clothes, the longer you put yourself at risk. 

With a bit of wiggling and stubbornness, you managed to unclip the seatbelt. It didn’t move much, but with it not so tight you could now push it away from you and start the process of wiggling out of your seat. You climbed over the center console, taking your time to avoid smashed glass or hurting yourself further. Once in the passenger seat, you pulled open the glove box, dragging out the kit and rummaging through it. You ripped open one of the gauze packets, pressing it to the left side of your forehead, the sting causing you to hiss. You continued anyway, forcing yourself to open the plastic package with a sling in it. You forced the knot over your neck. Sucking in a deep breath you forced yourself to move your arm into the sling, clenching your jaw in until the pain subsided. After ten minutes of breathing through the pain, you decided enough was enough. You had to move, even if you didn’t want to, you had too. 

Throwing open the door, you forced yourself out into the weather. The first aid kit stayed tucked under your arm so that you could help the other car. Walking up the incline was harder than getting out of the car, the pain from your arm and the other scrapes and bruises weighed you down. One step at a time. One foot after another. Eventually you made it to the driver's door. The windscreen was smashed, webbed cracks making it impossible to see through. You reached for the handle on the driver side, using it to steady yourself the last few steps then yanking it open. Inside, the driver was hunched over his steering wheel. 

“Hey,” You tried to shake his shoulder, but he didn’t respond, “Please, no.” 

You took a deep breath, then placed two fingers to the man's coritod, trying to calm the sound of your own heartbeat to feel the man. 

10 seconds passed. 

20.

30. 

Nothing. No Pulse. No Signs of Life. 

You pulled your hand away slowly, as if not to disturb him. 

“I’m so sorry,” You pulled away, stumbling a few steps back. 

By now, you could guess it had been almost half an hour. Half an hour in the sleet and rain, with no coat, no dry clothes. No one would be able to see you from the road, there was no barrier or break in a fence. No one could see you.  You were at risk, you knew any longer out here would kill you. You had to call for help. Forcing yourself to walk back down the slope to your car was hell. Your entire body shook, every time you took a step, your legs shook and you had to take extra time to steady yourself. When you finally got back to where you started, the passenger side door, you used your right arm to pull yourself back into the car. You had left your phone in the holder on the 

 There were no lights on in your car, nor the other one, so you had to search with light from the moon and strained eyes. You patted down the floor of the passenger side, nothing. Leaning over the console you tried the driver side. Avoiding the mangled parts was hard, no wonder your leg was scratched up and sore. Eventually your fingers found an irregularity, your phone face down on the ground. You yanked it up, pulling it to your face and trying to turn it on. With the screen facing you, you could see the damage. It was like it had been through a blender, the only intact part of the phone being your case. It was useless. A glorified paperweight. 

“Fuck!” 

40 minutes in these wet clothes. You had never been so cold in your life. It was as if there was no heat left in the world, the comfort of warmth was a fleeting memory. The aggressive shivering was making it hard to do anything, but you were more worried about what would happen when you stopped shivering. Growing up in Chicago, with a doctor brother, meant you heard all about how hypothermia could sneak up on a person. Most people didn't see it coming, didn’t know the signs. You were painfully aware of them. 

The racing heart. Tachycardia. 

The cold white fingers. Your body pulling blood from your extremities to protect your core.

Next it would be the brain fog, shock, the feeling of being overheated. There was no telling when it could strike. 

The other driver's phone. 

A lightbulb went off, literally. 

If you wanted to survive, you had to get back to the other driver. You had to fight. 

Finding the driver's phone felt like grave robbing. You could see it sitting in his cup holder. Some kind of miracle it hadn’t bounced out. You had to lean over the man to get the phone, trying not to move him or touch the blood that was staining his clothes. With the phone in hand, you gripped it with two hands to press the power button and activate the emergency call. You pressed the phone to your ear, it rang twice. 

“911, what is your emergency?” 

“I was in an accident,” You answered, “I need an ambulance.” 

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“I- I don’t know. I’m not shivering anymore. I’m not shivering.” 

Your arm dropped, phone tumbling into the snow on the ground. 

“It’s not cold anymore.” 

“Dispatch, we’re going to need a Medevac.” 

“Hey kid,” The paramedic was trying to keep you alert, “Not far from a hospital, okay?”

“It’s too hot,” You slurred, strapped to the gurney in preparation of the Medevac, covered in foil safety blankets. 

“I know, love,” The woman was so nice, her voice was so soothing. “Just hold on a little longer, yeah?” 

You could hear the sound of the helicopter approaching, a steady rhythm. It grew louder and louder. it  felt as if it was taking the rhythm from your heart, as the helicopter got louder you could feel your heart getting quieter. 

The deafening sound and the wind that came from the chopper made you feel like you were hallucinating. The whole time as you waited for help, half conscious in the snow. It was nothing much at first, shooting stars, the moon glowing brighter and brighter. Then it was Will’s voice, Jay’s humming. All the things that reminded you of warmth, of that all encompassing feeling. 

Holding onto your own consciousness was like trying to hold onto a cloud. You could just see it, sense it, but physically touching it, holding it… it was nearly impossible. 

A moment of clarity had you reeling it in, forcing your eyes open. 

Inside the chopper was just as loud. But more hectic. A symphony of chattering radios, yelling voices and beeping machines. 

“My brother,” You croaked. 

“Don’t speak, kid,” The Medevac paramedic was a different man, older than the paramedic from before. He looked like a dad. 

“My brother, Doctor Halstead… Chicago Med.” 

The man's face was out of focus, but you could see the realization on it. He knew what you were asking. 

He turned to the other body in the back of the shopper, the one that was just a blur of blue shapes, “Get him on the radio now.” 

He looked back at you, “What’s your name kid?” 

You whispered it back to him, voice raw and mouth dry. You felt like you were drenched in sweat. Everything was burning. The clouds in your mind were getting further and further away, but you forced yourself to hold tight to consciousness. You needed to talk to Will. You had to talk to him. 

“My name's Tom,” The paramedic was placing headphones over your ears, adjusting the mic so that your voice might reach it, “I’ve got you, alright, kid? Just take it easy.” 

The other person was speaking, explaining something. You could hear the bass of his voice through the headphones, like he was speaking inside your head. But he might as well have been speaking another language, because nothing he said made any sense. Your eyes were so tired, burning from the lights inside the chopper, even though you knew they were as low as they could go. Light flares made it impossible to focus, everything blending and swirling in a sickening live painting. Nothing was peaking through those clouds now. They were dark, cold, and sinister. The ones that roll through right before a thunderstorm, before everything went haywire. 

But then there was sun, a beam of warmth that basked you in calmness. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Will. The warmth that kept you safe. 

If you had been in your right state of mind, you would be able to hear the strain in his voice, the pure anguish. But you didn’t. All your brain could comprehend was that he was there. 

“I love you,” You whispered, not sure if it would be heard. 

Tom repeated your words, mumbling something about numbers or stats dropping. 

“I love you too.” Will replied, “I love you so much. I will always-” 

Will cleared his throat, it registered somewhere in the very back of your mind now. He was crying. 

“I will love you, forever. No matter what happens, sweetheart.” 

Will didn’t call you sweetheart anymore. It was always squirt. Sweetheart was what he called you as a child, the nickname that fizzled out when you turned 10 and having a hovering older brother was embarrassing. Again, that feeling of warmth returned. The feeling of lying in the sun after a swim, letting it dry you and warm you slowly. It was calm, gentle, nurturing. The warmth that made plants grow and flowers bloom. That you had spent your whole life with. Will was the sun in your family. Warm, nurturing and oh so loving. Always there, reliable and steady. If Will was the sun, then Jay was the moon. That Light that guided you through the dark. The one that brought coolness, serenity and wiseness. Jay was the one that kept you calm. Taught you to stand on your own two feet, to fight. The moon was always there, every single night. Sometimes it hid, keeping its light hidden, but it was always watching. 

Your brothers, your lifelines. 

The steady thrum of the helicopter was growing silent. Replaced with a ringing that pulled you into a clear empty and dark sky.

There were no more clouds. There was nothing. 

Will was on the roof as soon as he got word the chopper was getting close. The fear and anxiety that ran through his blood was making it hard for him to focus. He was standing by with strict orders not to intervene. When Goodwin had heard what was happening, she had made sure WIll knew that he could not be involved in treatment at all. No matter what, he could only watch. 

“I got this, Will,” Marcel assured Will. Marcel was a brother, he knew what it was like to worry over his sister. 

“I know,” Will responded, the words meant nothing. Nothing anyone could say would stop the thumping of his heart, the fear in his veins. 

As the chopper landed, Will watched Marcel and the trauma nurses run in, a practiced team. The hand-off was smooth as it could be, then everyone was running back inside, headed to the ED. Elevator rides with patients were always slow and nerve racking, now was no different. The Helipad was only a few floors above the ED, the distance was hardly far enough to feel as long as it was. 

“Baghdad's free” Maggie called as they barrelled into the ED. Marcel started barking orders, calling stats, medications. Will had done the routine before, thousands of times. Now, watching from outside the room,everything felt foreign and new. 

Marcel and Trinny cut off your damp clothes, replacing them with warm blankets and heat packs. 

“Temp check?” 

“61.2. Heart rates dropping. 62, 56, 43…” 

Maggie grabbed Will's arm, pulling him back as the monitors flatlined. 

“Get me an amp of epi!” 

"Epi’s in.” 

“Hold compressions…” 

“No pulse.” 

“Resume compressions.”

Will looked at his watch, the minutes were ticking by. 

“Alright,” Crockett switched with Asher on compressions, taking a step back, “Temps up to 63…” 

“It’s been ten minutes,” Asher said through compressions, “Should we try ECMO?” 

Marcel turned to Will, not for permission, but to see if he was following. THe face that Marcel saw was full of hopelessness. This wasn’t Will Halstead the ED Doc, it was Will Halstead the big brother. 

“Maggie?” 

“On it, Marcel,” Maggie stepped away from Will barking her own orders at nurses. 

How is this happening? 

Nothing else could take up space in WIll’s mind. Why was this happening? 

This morning when you had left, you showed Will the weather forecast, telling him it would be cold and rainy, that you would take your time and go slow. He knew you would too. You hated driving in the rain, so you were always alert. 

This morning, you had dropped him at work and yelled out the window, “Don’t kill anyone!” Before cackling and driving away.

You were so full of life when he last saw you. 

Now all he saw was a limp body that shared your face. 

“Will?” Jay's voice from across the ED. 

Will wasn’t just your big brother. He was Jay's too. At that moment, he knew Jay needed him. 

Will stepped away from the treatment room, intercepting Jay before he could get too close. 

“Listen to me,” Will pulled him aside, grabbing his shoulders, “You don’t want to see her right now. Marcel and Asher are working on her, they have it handled.” Lies. They were lies, or half-truths, either way, Will didn’t believe them. 

“How did this happen?” 

The Halstead brothers didn’t cry much, but now the both of them were tearing up. The fear of losing the light of their lives was weighing them both down. 

“That’s not important right now,” Will forced himself to say, “Right now, all that matters is she is getting treatment.” 

Jay nodded, he pulled out of Will’s grasp and turned to Hailey. She had watched the whole exchange, but Will hadn’t seen her until now. She looked like she might cry too. The same thoughts circling in the Halstead brothers minds were circling in her own. 

“She’s strong,” Hailey croaked out, “She’ll be okay. When she wakes up, she’ll have us, and she’ll be okay.” 

Will smiled at his sister-in-law. She really meant it, her belief giving Will something tangible to hold onto. If Hailey saw the way out, he would too. 

“I got a pulse!” 

The beeping of machines never sounded so sweet. A steady even beat. 

Will hadn’t prayed in so long, but he let slip, “Thank you, God.” A silent prayer followed. 

Where there was once nothing, now there was a wide blue sky, littered with meager clouds. They weren’t the ones that looked like faces or shapes, they were so small that they almost blended into the sky. But they were there. You could see them, feel them. God help you, you were going to reach them. 

The sun was out today too, a warm glow that set the perfect temperature. A spring morning with the first blooming flowers. The moon was there too, a watery reflection against the blue. It felt so serene here. The sun was calling to you, warming you in its embrace. You chose then, this would not be your goodbye to the sun and moon. 

Opening your eyes was the hardest challenge of the day. It was harder than walking up that slope, or staying conscious in the helicopter. Your body screamed for sleep, but you were too stubborn. You had to see the sun. 

“Will, Jay, get in here.” 

A warm hand on the side of your face, another one cradling your hand so gently. 

“We’re here, sweetheart.” 

“We’re not going anywhere.” 

This time they were real. When your eyes focused, there were your brothers. Your warmth on a cold day, the light on a dark night. When your eyes fluttered shut again, you knew they would watch over you, keep you tethered. You weren’t fearful of what would happen this time, they were looking out for you.

[trans-leek-cookie]

the thingw the orcs in dunmeshi is sth i skirt around bc like u said it is. not a great modern take on orcs. obv not the worst it could be and kui at least did engage w trying to write a more involved lore on them rather than just having this be the same “orcs are big uncivilized brutes” version 8000000 but that element is still there. and i do think “its not the worst” is hardly what i would want to set my highest expectations to jdhdgksgd

tumblrs being a bitch n not letting me put images in so I'll just paste the text from the other ask

Nodding. ty for the info on the ways halfling racism can be compared to irl examples in “the middle east” like that rly is such a close comparison i wonder if it was at all intentional… AND FR on the whole . wishing we knew what they called themselves bc the “halfling” “half foot” thing i rly cant help but think abt how it feels like irl examples of certain groups being denigrated to category slurs its like. LOL. dunmeshi makinh me feel party to fictional racism and microaggressions against my will...

Idk Abt skirting around bc I think it's smthn we should face head on, but at the same time I'm not in a place where I can really add onto the discussion wrt orcs as a white/East Asian person. IIRC ppl have said tolkiens orcs are black and/or central Asian (Mongolian I believe) coded, which is meaningful cause he's influenced so much of modern fantasy, and thats. Y'know. Not great. Also the orcs in dungeon Meshi are essentially an indigenous group from what I remember so that's also a whole mess. Again, my opinions arent very meaningful when it comes to this, but I feel like it's incredibly disappointing to see an author who's clearly capable of nuanced and interesting commentary on racism in the context of real life and fiction (even if it's not always great it's clear she's thinking about it in some depth) really just. Fall back on tropes. Bc for the other races - human is a wider category than usual, tall men aren't always the Everyman, elves are long lived but that doesn't make them wiser, and halflings are mature, worldly and resourceful, which I feel like does a lot to break free of typical fantasy pigeon holeing. But the orcs are just sorta... The Bad Guy but Not That Bad I guess? Theoretically it's a departure from the "super evil forever no exceptions" idea of the but it's still so far behind what needs to be done to make it less of a lazy, racist trope.

Yeah, again I'm not west Asian or Arab like I said, but between reading stuff ppl online write n talking to my Iraqi friend + rereading dungeon Meshi and really trying to analyze it, it kinda stood out to me. I will say I was a little unconfident posting about it bc it's 3 things (4 if you count the name note) but theyre still really notable at least to me. The hand/foot cutting is I feel the most explicit? Because that's such a fucked up stereotype it just stands out immediately. I don't necessarily know if the half foot/middle east connection was intentional, because I assume Japan/Asia in general has a different relationship with West Asia (since they are the "far east" in comparison, so "Middle East" wouldnt really make sense?), but it could be one of those things that colonialism managed to spread. I'm not very knowledgeable about that, but even if it wasn't intentional I think it's a very interesting parallel in how language can be used to categorize people as "normal/other". So i can't say if its intentional or not, but it's definitely an interesting lens to consider the story thru. Id also say I believe halflings are said to be native to a place that's east from where the story takes place, but not the eastern continent (which is p much easy Asia). I've seen some ppl take this to mean eastern Europe, and I don't think that's wrong, but I think u could also think of it as west Asia? Idk if we ever got much info on it in story, so I might be missing some details. (Honestly I'd personally HC that halflings are generally mixed Eastern European/West Asian- not to conflate the two, but rather Im imaging the majority of them are in a kinda blended culture).

[annegraves]

Your name is Delores

✨the angel herself✨

Five x Delores!reader

A.N: Hi guys! I know its been a long time but finally my exams or over! So I can finally work on stuff like this. I hope you like it, I don’t really know how to write fan fiction so i hope this is enough. And if you don’t like it tell I love to learn how to improve. Part 2 coming soon.

Edited on:31/12/23

Text key:

-Normal

-Thoughts

-(Author's comments)

、ヽ｀、ヽ｀个o(･_･｡)

Waking up in hospital room is tough, not remembering anything is tougher. But you got thru it.

Well at least so far. You suspected that your family was rich, I mean if no one was at the hospital when you woke up and the bill was paid for, most likely, right?

Being discharged you learned a few things.

- [ ] your name is (Y/N) Delores (L/N)

- [ ] You have amnesia

- [ ] You have a family waiting for you

Surprisingly, the thing that freaked you out most was the third realisation.

You were scared they would judge you. And they probably won’t judge you-I mean, of course not they’re family- But what if they would.

To calm yourself down you decided to go and buy yourself some new clothes. If you looked nice they couldn’t say anything, right?

...Right?

You walked in to a store, that seem not so famous-there were about three people including yourself (and one of them was a worker) - to find clothes to meet your family. Wow that’s a weird sentence, 'Meeting my family’ something you never thought was possible in your vocabulary.

As you stepped into the mostly empty store, you realised something. You had no money. But you can’t meet your family looking like... well.. that. So, shoplift it is. Thinking like that you walked to the back-where the employees go.

'Huh. This is easy', you thought, 'I should do this more often'

Out of nowhere an employee come out to stop you, “Can I help you?” They asked.

Oh shit, so this is why people don't steal

“Umm no I’m fine”, you’re eyes focused at the door behind them. “I was just looking.”

'Of course they were not leaving. ' those thoughts ran though your head. You were a suspicious looking teen, looking more at the door then the person front of you.

She was about to confront you when, “Can you help me? I can’t find these pants.” A lady with blonde hair said.

Thank you blonde lady with terrible fashion sense, I mean seriously long khakis? What can you pair that with? (I’m sorry idk anything about fashion to be calling that a fashion disaster)

“Why of course.” They said in a polite manner before giving you a look.

You ran into the back room. Couldn’t risk another incident like that to happening again. As soon as you got in you dropped your things and tried to find some clothes that the store might not remember, like: maybe lasts stock clothes or returns.

Something you forgot to think about was that the door of the employees room was thick, very thick, and had trouble opening (that’s why it was always open). Anyway, as you searched you heard a loud “Thud!”

"Ah shit."

You could only look in horror as the door lock you in. You got up- from searching-and tried your best to open the door, but nothing. At best that door would have felt like the wind hit it, i.e. nothing.

Not to mention after awhile the power went out. So you were sitting there with no ventilation, no light. Alone. It was creepy to say the least.

Luck was not on your side today.

You closed your eyes. Maybe if you do all of this will all go away? You closed your eyes and ears and curled yourself up in a ball.

I just wanted see my family

Suddenly you heard a very loud noise, louder than a gun, near your ear. It only lasted a second but it was enough to make your ears ring.

When you opened your eyes and unplugged your ears.

...

Everything was gone: the building, the people, even the room you were just in.

Gone.

Something took them?

You were in shock “What is this?” You said out loud. “Hello is anyone there?!” You shouted, loud, the loudest that you can remember. (lol)

You walking out and do the same thing, shouting, hoping someone could explain this to you, but nothing, there was no one.

“I guess this is my life now.”

[abidethetempest]

mega 3-in-1 rise and fall retrospective post!

(because i forgot to do them for the last three chapters..... oops) literally one person i think is cool liked my post about bringing these pack and I am Not Immune to peer pressure so I decided to do the ones I missed right away lmao

Chapter 10

As I said in the authors note on this chapter, this one was hard for me. Mainly because I was writing it while working on my conlang and then I got too excited abt the conlang and kinda forgot to write the chapter,,,,, I honestly can't remember if there was anything cool or important I wanted to highlight for this one. Rereading it now, I don't see anything to point out in particular. I mostly had fun writing Risen being kind of a menace with her lack of self preservation, and having Erikses go into mom-mode at the end.

Chapter 11

Aster

oh hey look that guy again. i'm sure he's not gonna cause any problems at all :)

no but in all seriousness, I do really like writing about Aster and how Risen feels about him. It's cool to have him be seen as a very real threat, esp in a game where as the player I feel like this unstoppable murder machine 90% of the time. Risen also has to worry about the lives of the House, who are most definitely not going to get back up if Aster kills them like she does. She's already prone to paranoia when it comes to him, so tapping back into some of her fears after a few chapters of relative peace was refreshing. (For me, anyway, I'm sure it sucked for her.) Excited to show you guys her growth as a character thru dealing w Aster and also to get to the more exciting bits of this arc.

I Wish Erikses Was My Mom

need I say more? Erikses is kind of my favorite character (okay maybeeee she's tied with Aakse tbh) and I just love writing her interactions with Risen. I was concerned that it would feel like her relationship with Risen moves too quickly from "tentative ally/mentor figure" to "i have been adopted this nice crab alien" but I eventually came to my senses and realized this is my fic and I can do whatever I want.

I do honestly feel like this was the right time to have them get closer, and not just because I want to write cute bonding times. I'll probably elaborate on this more in that sidefic I have planned; Erikses is someone who has always wanted to be a mentor and parent figure but it simply never worked out until now. Now Risen is suddenly thrust into her life, and Erikses has come to care about her beyond the initial "honored guest who I owe a great debt to" dynamic.

Writing that hug healed my soul. Erikses is best mom confirmed.

Chapter 12

all caught up now!

The Nightmare

ehehehe I bet I got some of you with that little fakeout huh >:3c sorry not sorry. It wasn't in my outline, but I felt like I wanted to show that, even tho Risen got some nice comfort from her alien mom Erikses last chapter, she's not instantly cured of all fear. But now she has Erikses in her corner if she ever needs someone to remind her its still gonna be okay.

Traveling Songs

A thing that has been in my brain since almost day 1 of this project is the idea of group songs being big in Eliksni culture. Traveling songs are specifically meant to bring good luck on your journey and keep everyone entertained (and awake) during all that damn walking. Also the sound of large groups of people singing together just does something to my brain okay.

Erikses, let me see what you have? A knife! NO!

Everybody's favorite scribe stabs people in her free time, go queen. This cultural detail is another one I've been kicking around for a long time. I think it came more out of the Long Drift than Riisborn Eliksni culture. Everyone needs to know how to fight, because the universe can be an incredibly cruel and hostile place, especially after the Whirlwind. Even scholars like Erikses traditionally are trained in some kind of weapon, tho their skills are usually more focused on self defense.

Risen Can Change Her Knives Now?

This is not a Risen-specific ability! (Actually none of her abilities as a Guardian will ever be hers alone, just a matter of skill, age, and practice.) I headcanon that Guardians can change the form of their Light-based summons (Hunter knives, Titan hammers, Golden Gun, Dawnblades, etc.) to fit their own personal tastes or fighting style. Within reason, ofc-- a Golden Gun will always be a gun, but maybe some Hunters make it a sniper instead. Risen wants her knives to look like Erikses's and in a quiet environment, with time and focus, she can do it. This is a lot harder during a fight, but practice makes perfect.

Embroidery <333

Once again, R&F is secretly just me gushing about every fiber art I know/want to learn forever. Embroidery is one I want to learn real bad; I do cross-stitch already a tiny bit, so I think I could do it in theory, but it just looks like magic to me ughhhh so cool.

Erikses choosing to share her art with Risen is a significant act in Eliksni culture, and somewhat formalizes their teacher-student relationship (we have not gotten to my cultural concept of iksabas yet but when we do I will have so much yelling to do about Erikses and how she makes Risen a member of her family thru the act of sharing her language and her craft with her).

whew okay thats a long boi in the soup but there's three chapters worth of retrospectives!

[fuck-customers]

Fuck managers! I scheduled a surgery for mid june in mid april, plenty of time in advance. Also not for anything serious, but definitely something thats been bugging me for almost the entire year so far and has already caused me to miss work, so my supervisors at least vaguely know about it. Also something that will definitely take at least a week or two of recovery so I had to take some time off for it. Our time off request system is online and tells us what days are blackout days and can’t be requested off. Usually that’s reserved for holidays. The days I scheduled said nothing and didn’t seem to be blacked out which was why I picked those time in the first place. You can see where this is going

Fast forward about a week, I’m at work and one of my supervisors asks me to look at the schedule real quick, and she goes “so I denied the vacation days you took in June for father’s day weekend and the blackout days around it, but the rest are good to go :)” Now my managers are actually pretty understanding, and again I had completely forgotten that I had scheduled it over fathers day which was definitely on me, but again there was nothing indicating it on the request system either so I figured they would be fine! I work in a bakery so holidays do tend to be busy but...not fathers day. Most people get their dads steak and shit like that, not fruity colorful cakes (although they definitely should). I’ve worked there for nearly 5 years and fathers day has NEVER been especially notable in terms of sales.

So assuming my boss would be cool and help me work something out if I told her, I was like “oh, I actually scheduled surgery for that time.” Again, usually they’re cool and understanding and actually work around you very well.

Well not today! She was kinda just like “yeah?” and stared at me blankly. So kind of taken aback I was like “uh...I’ll see when I can...reschedule it for I guess?” To which she was like “sounds good!”

Now I had picked the days I did specifically because I’m going on a work trip in mid may and won’t be back until the 31st. Fathers day is the 20th of June and I scheduled surgery for the 11th. So I asked her “I won’t be back from the work trip until May 31st and the only other available surgery date was June 4th...instead of my current date y’all think you would be okay with me just...being gone for a whole month? Or back for a couple days between the 31st and 4th just to leave again?” And keep in mind, literally EVERY time I’ve taken time off in the last year, they’ve asked me to either just not do it or have texted or called me trying to beg me to come in. Every. Time. I know this won’t be any different, and I don’t wanna toot my own horn but I do good work and they STRUGGLE when I’m not there which is exactly why I asked this. But of course she was just like “no yeah that’s fine, hell, just take the whole month off!”

It kind of just ended there but the more I thought about it the more pissed I got. Like the schedule is already out until mid may and I’m not ?? prepared for surgery like right now even if that was an option. Then the work trip, and then doing the surgery on the 4th might not even be enough recovery time before the fathers day blackout starts! I’m not gonna be in pain and risk my recovery for that shit! Not to mention doing it after is out of the question since 4th of July follows so soon after and that’s DEFINITELY a much busier holiday for us. I don’t want to keep waiting to fix this problem and the date I picked really is the best option without pushing it out until almost AUGUST when it’s been bothering me since JANUARY. And I do feel bad for scheduling it over a holiday but again I got no indication that it was blacked out! It’s hard enough already to schedule anything longer than 2 weeks without accidentally doing it over a holiday, at least this holiday isn’t all that busy!

Not to mention the fact that that kind of behavior is on brand for her. She acts super nice and like I said is actually really cool and understanding and is totally cool with working with you with this kind of stuff...unless she’s in a bad mood. She’s very much the type to take shit out on us and sometimes she’s super weird and stubborn and vindictive and it’s just dependent on her mood and how shitty she feels like being to you that day. And since she’s a supervisor she just gets away with it. Earlier that day even my bf had texted me like “hey, (supervisor) is in a bad mood jsyk” and when I come in what does she do? Use her authority to be weird to her employees! She’s always been like that and I have stories on stories about her, this just really rubbed me the wrong way.

Anyways this story does actually have a happy ending! I continued my day and had just resolved to having to reschedule surgery and figured I would exact revenge by leaving for my trip and just staying away as long as I possibly could, when my team lead comes RUNNING up to me and goes “oh my god, do NOT reschedule your surgery jfc” and I was like “oh but I can if y’all really need me to?” (I’m too nice) to which she goes “NO!! That’s crazy!!! Thank you for even CONSIDERING doing something like that but no absolutely not. You’re not fucking around at home doing nothing for 2 weeks it’s SURGERY.” And ended the conversation by walking away so that was that lol. I’m very glad one of them actually has some sense.

Oh, and other supervisor came up and did this thing she likes to do when she’s wrong where she doesn’t apologize but DOES find a way to just brush off her wrongdoing. This time she comes up to me later in the day and was like “haha yeah I told (team lead) that you told me the time off request that I denied was actually for surgery and she stopped what she was doing, shook her head, and IMMEDIATELY came up to talk to you lol” like yeah no shit dude?? Oh the team lead was disappointed that you’re being a bitch and had to clean up your mess?? And is also actually reasonable and didn’t expect me to literally cancel getting my body cut open to come work a stupid holiday that’s not even busy? Real shocker lmfao

TLDR boss tried to make me reschedule a much needed surgery bc I scheduled it on blackout days that no one told me were blackout, other boss comes thru and is like “wtf thats fucking crazy please don’t do that jfc”

[yeojaa]

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween.  What he loves more than that?  You.

pairing.  gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating.   idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded.  it’s just that fluffy.  (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings.  established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower. 

wc.  9.7k

beta reader(s).  the lovely @kerikaaria​​​ read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy.  tysm!  💛  i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif​ gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly.  oops... 

author note.  this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo​‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves.  while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside.  i hope you enjoy it!   

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened.  You remember, faintly, the mention of a party.  Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc.  He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought.  If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway.  Win-win or whatever.  

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge.  Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean. 

“Zarya’s one!  Zarya’s one—“  You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen.  You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too.  There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch.  “Zarya’s actually one!” 

No one cares.  She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map. 

“Jesus—“  Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue.  You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.  

I need healing!  I need healing! 

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way.  Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though.  There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point.  Stupid.  You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support. 

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked.  So infuriating and yet— nope.  Just infuriating. 

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise.  Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise.  He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face.  You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru.  He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team.  A silver lining, you suppose.  

Your second round starts well enough.  Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta.  Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana.  You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn.  Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost.  (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado.  The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong.  Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter. 

“You winning?” 

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction.  You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.  

(It’s not your own fault.  He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!”  You want to be more mad.  Really, you do.  You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long.  Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn. 

“What?”  Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime. 

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves.  All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.  

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder.  You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days.  You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery. 

It’s a little distracting;  he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual.  You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck.  Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see;  it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over.  You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication.  (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.) 

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so.  You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words). 

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet. 

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya?  She has grav.”  Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon.  Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock.  If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game. 

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void.  Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces.  Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next.  Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,”  says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head.  He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match.  It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.  

“Rip is right,”  you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map.  If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms.  Jungkook chuckles at that.  

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well.  There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested.  Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”  

You don’t turn your head.  Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you.  Sometimes, you love it;  other times, you hate it.  Most times, though, he’s right.  He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame). 

“Can we go top left?��  You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main.  Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team.  Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited.  “You should be back right by the stairs.  You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point.  Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav.  She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you.  As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen. 

“Told you,”  he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore. 

“I was going to say thank you.”  Just not right now.  You can’t multitask quite like he can. 

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display.  “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock.  Thank freaking god.  You can win this, you think.  Easy.  No problem. 

“Go Ana on defense.”  At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth.  You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin. 

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time.  He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat. 

“Do you just want to play?”  You don’t mean it seriously.  You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you.  It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship. 

“Nah, I’m snacking.”  He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.  You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon. 

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions.  He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do.  He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do.  He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t. 

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.  

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair.  You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears. 

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game.  There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back. 

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie.  “We won,”  you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug. 

“Of course you did.”  He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you.  He’d been a great coach. 

“What’re you doing here?”  It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest.  He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair.  (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines.  You don’t care.) 

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.  

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.”  You remember, because you’d been disappointed.  Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,”  he states, like he’s talking to a moron.  You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.  

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen.  Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena.  It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it. 

“Yeah, we,”  Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker.  “Halloween party, baby.  Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises:  (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party?  You didn’t think idols had those.  Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no.  Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.”  It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach.  It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day. 

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face.  It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way.  Why’s he looking at you like that?  Why’s your memory so bad?  Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions? 

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance.  It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage.  A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns. 

“I— don’t remember that.”  You’re lying through your damn teeth.  Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass. 

“But you did!”  He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal.  It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me!  You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate. 

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here.  It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia.  “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular.  You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish. 

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs.  (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs.  You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.)  It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing.  The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames.  Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them;  Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.  

“I don’t think I can pull this off,”  you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious.  (You were, once.  Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.) 

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places.  Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest.  You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it.  (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention.  Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you.  You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp.  A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue.  “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance.  It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway.  “You have to say that.  You’re my boyfriend.” 

“I don’t have to say anything,”  he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten.  It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot.  It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart.  “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then.  He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened.  He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom.  How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure.  All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up;  yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug.  You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.  

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson.  They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay—  that was scary.  I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.”  A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees.  It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?”  You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there.  He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms;  he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh.  His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised;  Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer.  (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.”  Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end.  It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature.  You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee.  Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact.  A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious.  You look—”  You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose.  A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon.  “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it.  Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders.  You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!”  You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself.  All part of his plan, you suppose.  “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.  

“Okay!  Sorry!”  Except he doesn’t look very sorry.  More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you.  You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”  

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie.  You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment.  (Not that you really mind.)  

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip.  It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting.  Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks.  It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love. 

Today, it comes after the fourth count. 

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.”  Well, of course you will.  As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas.  It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams. 

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times.  “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins.  It’s unfairly adorable.  Still, you push.  Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you.  From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted. 

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot.  You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum.  A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to.  You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you;  rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.”  By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful.  The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday. 

It turns out to be the opposite:  one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend.  He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger.  You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another.  For tonight, they’re one and the same. 

“Joker?  Seriously?”  You can’t hide the delight.  It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction.  Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask.  “Don’t sound so excited.”  It’s an actual concern of his.  He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.  

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more.  He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting. 

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky.  You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises.  It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently.  You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared;  you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.”  You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes.  It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes.  It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling.  Bastard.  “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker.  You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter.  He’s dressed this way because you like the character.  

“Oh,”  you say, because there’s not much more to say.  Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it. 

“Yeah,”  he parrots back, a little smug.  

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life.  He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set.  You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better.  (You suppose he is.)  

“Angel, come here!”  He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side.  Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love.  There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).   

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.  

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball.  You don’t mind.  You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.  

“I’m winning,”  he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.  

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh.  Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst.  Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.  

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.”  You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element.  He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some.  It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is).  “How many games have you won?”  Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.”  God, his ego.  You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best.  Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck.  He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you.  To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.  

“Can we play?”  Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks.  You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.  

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs.  Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend.  (How fitting.)  “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch.  “No, you’re just bad at games!”  He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes.  Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink.  In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus.  (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?)  You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily.  Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.”  And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.  

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond.  He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life. 

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”  

“Ahhhhhh, stop!”  It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own.  Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads.  “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!”  You know it isn’t true.  Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines).  But together?  It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.  

You absolutely loved it. 

“Sure, sure,”  the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot.  One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins.  A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour.  You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one.  Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour.  “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.  

“Drink this!”  

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?”  You’re incredulous.  Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl.  It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless.  Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!”  The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too.  “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy?  It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?). 

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it.  Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body.  “Don’t die!”  He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”  

“No, you’re fine.”  He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up.  You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement.  “Your face, oh—  Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane.  You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together.  It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor.  Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms.  You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?”  It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies.  He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile.  “What’re you doing down there?”  

“Just hanging out,”  you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft.  A modern day olive branch.  “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close.  Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like.  It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like.  Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away.  You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness.  “You sound drunk, angel,”  he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek.  It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin.  It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves.  “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,”  comes Jimin from beside you.  There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.  

“That’s the plan,”  Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment.  It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him.  He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation.  When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case.  “Want to head home?”

You do.  You really, really do.   

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are.  Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—”  There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet.  “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway.  “Sorry,”  you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused.  It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.”  He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh.  Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away.  “Here, let me.”  

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time.  (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,”  you tease, clinging to him like a koala.  You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven.  “Or are you the court jester?  That’s what Joker is, right?”  It’s a joke and a bad one at that.  Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.  

“You’re drunk.”  He says it more kindly than you expect.  Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve.  You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded.  There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare.  It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought.  You have to tell him.  Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it.  “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down.  As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands.  (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.)  “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?”  You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon.  You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.”  It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that.  You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style.  You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression.  “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does.  You pout, as you so often do. 

“Okay,”  you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder.  You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings.  “Will you wash my hair?”  You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.”  Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).  

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck.  When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips.  You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat.  Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.”  As if that’s meant to stop you.  He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention.  He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,”  you mumble into the expanse of his chest.  He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable.  You think you could live in the feeling of his arms.  (You’re lucky you get to.)  You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most.  “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation.  You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless.  It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.  

He’d explained it to you once.  Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first.  Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t.  JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm.  Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that.  You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.”  You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon.  You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure.  “Gotta get undressed to shower,”  he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises?  It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”  

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.  

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care.  Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow.  You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep.  He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle.  His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck.  You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight.  You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits.  There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest.  He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.”  The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck. 

“We are, angel,”  Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back.  It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame.  “Just need to get you warmed up first.”    

“The shower’ll be warm,”  you say - or think you say, anyway.  It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).  

“Do you want me to stop?”  It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off.  Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat.  “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.”  Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern.  You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.  

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise.  “I never want you to stop.”  

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair.  He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted.  “I love you,”  he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.  

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment.  He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off.  You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders.  You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.  

“Start the shower.”  

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that.  You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away.  The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,”  he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream.  He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip.  You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does.  You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside.  It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you.  You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.  

“Hair?”  You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder.  It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.  

“Patience, baby.”  It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess.  He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue.  (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—”  The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand.  Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it.  It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips.  A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit.  The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump.  Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.  

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair.  “Patience,”  he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist.  He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue. 

“Kook,”  you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess.  There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest.  A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.  

“Relax for me.”  You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.  

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more.  You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish.  (You wish you could see him.) 

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him.  (It was.)  He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense.  Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.  

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures.  With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,”  comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care.  Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls.  He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.  

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard.  Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot;  it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.  

“K-Kook.”  It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.  

“I’ve got you.”  And he does - hook, line, and sinker.  He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave.  It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go.  He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn.  See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service.  Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him.  You should recognise the look on his face.  “Kook?”

“My turn.”  It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward.  There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you.  It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in.  “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.  (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed.  In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine.  It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat.  His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear.  It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure.  “Oh fuck,”  he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.  

“Always so good for me.”  Another thing he says, often and without prompting.  It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet.  “Always so perfect for me.”  

“Because I love you,”  you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.  

“Love you too, angel.”  He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway.  He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted.  He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart.  Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust.  An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision;  it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard.  He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high.  You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings. 

“Kook,”  you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower.  The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm.  You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing.  It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.  

“P-please, Kook.  Please.”  You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his.  He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation.  “Come for me, Kook.  Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars.  Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you.  It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs.  You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.  

“I love you,”  he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.  

“I love you,”  you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours.  “But I still need you to wash my hair.”  It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days.  “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.”  Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements.  He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery.  Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.  

“I thought I was an angel.”  You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks.  Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline.  Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice.  “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”  

You can’t argue with that. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @snackhobi​

[crimeronan]

Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so.  yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes 

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world.  follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content.  in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass.  which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype.  mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that.  yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale.  both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness??  rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family??  rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life??  rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry??  once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks??  all that repression baybey.  this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years.  every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far.  not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc.  i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc.  but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me.  he’s so fucking good

[iamanartichoke]

I started typing this in the tags of this post, and it got too long, and then I was going to just reblog the post with this as an addition but that got too long too, and I've been meaning to make a post addressing free will vs. predestination since the premiere anyway, so - here we go. Spoilers, obviously.

Cut for length and spoilers. Please blacklist #loki tv series spoilers, #loki series spoilers, and #loki spoilers.

This is kinda rough and I'm not sure it actually makes any sense but I'm posting it anyway.

I realize that the post is a joke, obviously (and it is hilarious) but I started thinking about the implications and couldn't stop because it's honestly a goldmine of existential reflection and an inevitable crisis or three.

Let's look at a scenario.

Say you're late to work for reasons totally beyond your control: your neighbor stopped you to ask a question on your way out the door; you swung through the drive-thru for a quick coffee but the person in front of you is ordering a full continental breakfast ffs (this happened to me this morning); there was an explosion and then the Winter Soldier randomly dropped from the sky and landed on the hood of your car. Whatever. Shit happens.

So you're late, but on this particular day, your lateness somehow has consequences that lead to and create a nexus event and the next thing you know, you're being arrested, tried, convicted of time crimes and ultimately (a version of you is) erased from existence.

And this is if it's not even your fault you're late.

Now say that you're late and it is your fault. You took a new route on a whim and drove a little more slowly because you passed a particularly pretty meadow; you hit the brakes at a yellow light instead of speeding through bc you wanted the quick chance to check your email; you sat in your car for a few extra minutes in the parking lot, because maybe your job sucks and you really needed those extra minutes today to psyche yourself up into getting out of the car and going inside and clocking in.

These little choices are you exercising your free will. Because to me, free will is all or nothing - it doesn't just apply to the big decisions.

On the other hand, predestination means that regardless of the choices you make or if it's a big decision or not, everything you do is ultimately going to lead you to a set point or position or place (your destiny).

And I can kind of look at it like a GPS - that is, there are a number of "insignificant" choices you could make and they will still lead you to where you're predestined to go. Like how a GPS will reconfigure your route if you miss your exit on the highway. It doesn't matter if you took Route A or Route B, you're still going to end up at your destination.

But say sometimes the route does matter. Say that there are certain scenarios in which there's only one road (for example, 14 million losses vs 1 win) and you can only get on it by following a specific series of events and what determines the ultimate outcome is whether or not you're late to work that day.

If you decide to wait those extra five minutes in the parking lot, that means that you weren't in your cubicle at 9:03 when Stanley from Accounting wandered by with his giant stack of papers, and when Mary Sue said hello to him, he got distracted and tried to wave and ended up dropping those papers. Had you been at your cubicle, you'd have swooped down to help him but since you weren't there, Stanley is crouched on the floor alone and doesn't notice Joe coming at him with a paper trolley so when he stands up, he and Joe collide and Stanley loses his balance and goes face-first toward the trolley and breaks his nose when he hits the metal handle on his way down.

Now Stanley has to go to the hospital to get his nose set because you wanted to sit in your car and spend five extra minutes hating your life that morning.

If the sacred timeline says that Stanley is supposed to be in that ER at that specific time on that specific day, and no other set of circumstances would get him there, because this will ultimately take Stanley down the road to whatever greater journey he's supposed to go on, then it has to happen. But say you exercise your free will and decide not to wait those five minutes, because the free will applies to every choice you make, even the tiny, insignificant ones. You chose to put on your big person pants and took a deep breath and just head inside - and because you chose to do that and because you were at your cubicle to help Stanley with his papers, Stanley never ends up in the ER and the timeline that's supposed to happen is suddenly at risk and the TVA has to get involved (I assume).

So having free will introduces way, way too many variables into a fixed timeline to ever keep track, because you're taking these tiny, seemingly insignificant choices that people are making every minute of every day, and you're multiplying them by trillions of sentient beings in the universe, and you're saying the fate of the timeline and reality itself depends on all of these beings either always making the choice they're supposed to make or constantly sending the TVA out whenever they don't.

It's fair to conclude, then, that both free will and a fixed, single timeline can't exist at the same time. Either you adhere to the fixed timeline and everyone does exactly what they're supposed to do every second of every minute of existence, or you have free will and autonomy over all of your decisions, no matter how big or small, and those decisions can result in a number of outcomes, ultimately leading you to one of several possible destinations.

Case in point: Tony didn't have to snap his fingers in Endgame. He chose to. Had he not, Thanos would have won. It doesn't matter if there was one way to victory or 14 million ways to failure; the timeline could ultimately only go one of two ways and the choice Tony willingly made determined that Thanos lost. It wasn't predetermined because if Tony had not chosen to snap his fingers, the timeline would have gone the other way.

My personal belief - and this isn't necessarily for the MCU, but in general - is that we do possess free will and the future is ever shifting and changing because nothing is written in stone. It holds up against most, if not all, of the world's belief systems. For example, if you believe that people have guardian angels, the rule is generally that your guardian angels can help you but you have to ask them; they can't decide to intervene without your permission because to do so would infringe upon your free will.

Similarly, you can go on etsy and pay $5 for a funsies psychic reading or pay a lot more money for an in-depth, specific tarot reading and both will tell you that the outcomes may change depending on the paths you take, and that their ultimate advice is for you to keep your focus on your goals and your own self so that you can be subconsciously manifesting the best possible future for yourself. (Not that I know this from experience. It was one time. It was a few times. My point stands, and also stop judging me.)

To get back to the MCU, though - if you determine that both a single, fixed timeline and free will can't simultaneously exist, and your ultimate purpose is upholding said timeline and not letting anyone fuck it up, lest it break off into lots of different branches, then it poses a pretty serious moral and/or ethical question of - who decides what choices we make and what paths we're destined for? The time lizards? Who gave them that authority? Did anyone, or did they just manifest themselves into existence one day, create the universe, and then decide all of the rules (and, if so, where does that leave the norns and the gods and other super powerful beings who are generally thought to be in charge of things)?

If free will doesn't exist and everyone is acting based on what has been predetermined for them by some higher being (or, in this case, time lizards), it takes away our autonomy, and if everything we do and every single tiny step we take is decided for us, what makes us any different than cogs in a machine just following orders? What separates us from robots?

Speaking of robots, it's interesting to me that the TVA's screening process (if you can call it that) has a failsafe against robots specifically. Any robot that might come through is destroyed immediately and in this case, “not a robot” is defined, more or less, as a sentient being that possesses a soul. What does the TVA have against robots if their ultimate goal is ensuring that the robotic machinations of the time lizards are consistently carried out to protect the sacred timeline?

A soul makes you human; the energy of the soul is what you, at the core, are. It can be assumed that having a soul also means that you have some sort of moral and ethical code by which you live your life but, if you don't also have free will, then what is the point of possessing a soul and a moral and ethical code?

Loki is a villain and he's told by Mobius, the TVA, Odin, and pretty much everyone who ever meets him that the only thing he's good for - the only reason he exists - is to cause pain and suffering and death. This has been predetermined for him; this is not his fault and he did not choose it. And every single choice he makes has either already been destined as the choice he was supposed to make, or will be pruned so it won't grow into the wrong timeline. Ultimately Loki can change neither his final destination, nor the purpose and meaning of his existence.

Which leads me to the theory that the several Loki variants that the TVA keeps coming across are the result of Loki consistently resisting against his predetermined path; he's trying to find the timeline where he is able to latch onto and keep his own free will in defiance of the timekeepers but, so far, he hasn't been successful. This could segue into why the current Variant is now going scorched earth and just obliterating the main timeline completely - because if there is no sacred timeline, there's nothing dictating who or what Loki can be, and free will is regained. If there's a multiverse that branches and branches beyond anyone's control, then there must be a branch in there, somewhere, where Loki can exist on his own terms and decide how his own story goes.

This also might be a theory for why Loki is already setting his sights on taking over the TVA (assuming that's not just something he told the variant for reasons). But my original point in delving into all this is to ask: if Loki is predestined to always be a villain whose story plays out exactly the same way because that's what's supposed to happen, then how can anyone ever hold his misdeeds against him? He's literally just existing as the timekeepers decided he would exist and everyone is blaming him for it.

And this leads me to ask, as well, if one's soul is generally good, and one possesses more good traits than bad, what is the logic in making them exist only for pain and destruction? If it's for a greater good, then it stands to reason Loki is not the only one predestined for misery, and what greater good could come from all that suffering?

Conclusion: the existence of the TVA as an organization means that there is one fixed, sacred timeline but the existence of said timeline is immoral and unethical because it means no one actually has any free will at all in the MCU. The very notion of heroes and villains is pointless because it has nothing to do with your own qualities or morality, it's literally the luck of the draw. In order to have free will, the sacred timeline has to be destroyed, and so my prediction is that the Big Bad of the Loki series is not the TVA and not the time keepers but the actual timeline itself, and the entire fate of the MCU rests on whether or not Loki can ultimately succeed.

Also, don't be late for work.

[katesthoughtsonthis]

FROM BLOOD AND ASH - JENNIFER L. ARMENTROUT

Like I and many other people, I found this book thru TikTok. I was skeptical at first because I hadn’t read a proper book since before starting college circa 2013. I decided to give it a try after finding it eight - ten - thousand times on my fyp. I went straight to my nearest barnes and noble and for the life of me couldn’t find it. Now mind you this was March 2021. At this point, the whole of the world had found out about this book. I got lucky though, I found one… in a B&N about 30 minutes away from my house. you bet your ass I hauled my tuckus there. As soon as I got it in my hands, let’s just say it was a bit of a downward spiral from then on. Anyways, enough of my rambling. Let’s get to the good parts. I will make this as spoiler free as I can as possible.

The PLOT

Goodness gracious did it pack a punch straight away. Good lord the brothel scene. I was assaulted right away with my senses. The strong need to be touched by this mysterious man. Just when it was about to get to the good part it was ripped away. Then the real world building begins. So, initially starting this book, I actually didn’t know that this was going to be a six part book. I thought to myself, here we go with the world building. Now I like world building; but when it becomes long and winded, you lose me. I like that it gave me a good position about what the MC role was in life. What I appreciated was that we didn’t necessarily get ML back into the picture until a few chapters in. He was introduced much later in the chapters. Not so much so that you forgot him. Then the challenge of the minds. What New Adult book would not have a ML challenge the views of MC? Additionally, what New Adult book would not have the palpable sexual tension between the two characters. I loved every minute of it. Then the scene where MC’s true character was brought out was heartbreaking. I felt myself shed a few tears. The escape and the twists was breathtaking. I loved loved loved the slow realization of MC about ML. The twist bro the twist.

The Characters

Poppy (Penelaphe) Balfour

Can I just say that with NA genre books, I am appreciative of the fact that the main girls are not always skinny white girls with facial expressions like a gnat? I’m tired of it. She thicc like a honeydew; if god was a woman *wink wink*. Anyways, I like the fleshing out of her character. I’m just surprised she’s not more traumatized by the abuse she suffered at the hands of her captors. As someone who works closely with mental health disorders, I’m surprised that there wasn’t a scene where an object or word or action was a trigger for her. It was more stereotypical that she “got past it” and was stronger. Like no sweetheart, someone as abused as you should have it least some sort of response from the abuse. Maybe it was her need to stab every one around her? I like the description of her features. It’s interesting to me. To me, she could have been a little bit more scarred to bring more reality to it rather than it being an accessory that still looked pretty on her. Ok now I hear myself. It seems I’m just attacking at every hole I see. I like Poppy. I wish I was Poppy. Mostly because I want Hawke, but also for the red hair and the powers. Mostly for Hawke let’s be honest.

Also kudos to the artists that made these fanarts. This rendition of Poppy is amazing. Majority of the fanarts I’ve seen the Veil is too sheer. It was meant to fully cover her because the captors did not want a reminder of what she really was. Granted the mouth and nose should be covered too. But them thigh tho. They are thicc.

Art by Loweana

Hawke Flynn

LORD HELP ME. THIS MAN IF FIIIIIOOONE. UH GOD - can I have one too. hahaha. This has got to be the best fanart for what Hawke looks like. The FUCKING DIMPLE. I like that a lot of women who read NA genre are like yep these men need dimples and the authors agreeeeeed. Anyways, I like the cunningness of his character - and his cunnilingus. hahahahahahahaha. Ok, I have to reign myself in now. So Hawke is the MAN. That ain’t no boy. That is a MAN. I like that he doesn’t shy away from his attraction to Poppy nor is he unwilling to not challenge her beliefs on the status quo.

Art by Jeleynai

Conclusion

I bought the rest of the series at that time. which was just its sequel Kingdom of Flesh and Fire. I will do a post of this one down the line. As well as the sequel to that one; The Crown of Gilded Bones. I am fully committed to this series. I bought the FairyLoot version of the series as well as the Illumicrate. I got the Illumicrate one just last week and it is GORGEOUS, but because I am an incredibly (begrudgingly) nice person. I gave the Illumicrate one to my Aunt/Best Friend (she’s only a couple years older than me, I was an oopsie baby). I kept the rest of the stuff though. The blanket came in handy for a road trip I took with family and boyfriend the next couple of days later. I’m still waiting on the FairyLoot which I hear is coming soon. Oh, also I can’t wait for the next book coming out in Feb 2022 and its companion book in Oct 2021!

This definitely gave me a book hangover though. Could not recover for WEEKS.

[notveryglittery]

misc royality #2

summary: it’s basically the sleepover drive thru video lol wc: 900 / ship: royality! duh!! author’s note: i reblogged this post in october of 2018 and wrote like 200 words back then and never got back to it but i’m on a writing kick so here’s this? hope you enjoy!! 

— — —

This was ridiculous in about every sense of the word but Roman really couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. Logan called him ridiculous all the time so he might as well live up to it, right? Mostly, Roman just hoped he didn’t look stupid and raise any eyebrows for going into the same fast food drive through twice in one day. It had, at the very least, been quite a few hours now since he was here last. He just couldn’t get the employee out of his head. Roman tapped his fingers along to the beat of the song playing from the speakers, admiring how the glitter in his red polish caught the sunlight. He laughed under his breath and rolled his eyes. One compliment and he was smitten… Truly ridiculous.

The car in front of him pulled forward and Roman did the same, glad that no one had arrived behind him just yet. He turned the music off and leaned slightly out of the window, to make sure the conversation could go as smoothly as possible.

“Hi, welcome to Taco Bell! What would you like today?”

Roman was quite sure he recognized the voice.

“Uh, were you working earlier by chance?”

“Yes…” A pause. “I was?” It sounded hesitant and Roman hurried to continue, not wanting to come across as a complete weirdo.

“You were— Okay, I came by and I ordered a beefy five layer burrito with no sour cream and I think you complimented my nail polish and I just wanted to know if you wanted to have a sleepover tonight?” Had he said it too fast? Would the employee even remember him?

“A… a what?”

“A sleepover!” Roman repeated, enthusiasm coloring his tone and overriding his nerves.

“A sleepover?” They sounded confused but excited.

Roman tried to reign his hopes in before they could get too high. “Yeah!”

“Really?!”

“Yeah!” Roman said again.

“When?”

“Tonight,” Roman suggested, finally giving in and letting his hands happy flap against the steering wheel. This was going so much better than he thought it would!

“Can you come up to the window?” The employee asked with laughter in their voice.

“Yeah!” Roman said once more, higher pitched suddenly in his joy.

With still no car behind him in the drive-thru, Roman pulled up to the second window with confidence thrumming through his veins. He felt sort of bad for not actually ordering any food this time but he could always get a Baja Blast or something if necessary. He shifted gears into park, just in case the conversation took longer than his foot cared to be pressed on the gas pedal. He leant out his window again, chin propped up on his hand, and put on an effortlessly charming smile while he waited.

Soon enough, the drive thru window slid open, and there the employee was. Roman could see now the name tag read Patton and specified he/they underneath in smaller print. Roman hoped it was okay to assume the blue bracelet Patton was wearing, though, was a clue that today was a he/him day.

“Hi,” Patton said, giggling a little.

“Hi,” Roman echoed, wishing science had made it possible to bottle sounds so that he could hear that laugh for the rest of his life. “I’m Roman. Sorry if this is weird?”

Patton shook his head. “I’ve had weirder, trust me.”

Roman could only guess what that meant and for a moment, righteous anger on Patton’s behalf flooded through him. However, Patton smiled and anything bad in the world melted away.

“Were you serious about the sleepover?” He asked, seeming shy about it.

“Absolutely!” Roman exclaimed. He flashed his hand, letting his nails catch the light. “You’re never too old for makeovers and romcoms and gossip!”

“Wine and baked goods too, right?” Patton offered, from shy to sly in a moment.

Roman swooned.

“I clock out in two hours. Would it be okay to meet at the Starbucks across the street?”

Roman nodded fervently. “Of course! We can stay there awhile too, if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that you could,” Patton reassured sweetly.

Roman had flirted and been flirted with a lot in his time but this? This was going to kill him.

“Will you get in trouble if I don’t buy something?”

Patton waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it! At least you aren’t asking for a refund.”

“Okay…” Roman hesitated, loath to end the interaction. “I’ll… see you in two hours, then?”

“I’m looking forward to it!” Patton promised before glancing behind Roman’s car. A customer had arrived during their chat. “Oh. Back to it then. Have a nice day, Roman!”

Patton waved him goodbye and Roman really had do his best to focus on actually driving safely back out onto the road. The Starbucks date will go swimmingly, bonding over sugary drinks and cake pops; they’ll swing by the grocery store next to buy wine and pastries, Roman laughing over every one of Patton’s food-related puns; the sleepover itself is more fun than either has had in a good while. It’s a lovely start to their friendship and a solid road to possibly more. Until then, Roman will sing along loudly and happily to his music on his way home, looking forward to the future.

[personasintro]

Hi, author! i'm a reader that found your fic thru this hell app and downloaded wattpad just to keep up with your story. I'm piedepagina over there and i've been commenting a lot for the latest chapter (i'm sorry 😭) and i had just never sent you an ask here, but i'm seeing the asks you're getting and it's really sad to see you're feeling down 😢 ngl i wanted to come here with an ask to talk about the characters bc i love that (btw me identifying manipulative traits in Kiko come from personal experience, it's how we all analyze media, so i apologize if i'm misunderstanding your character, it really isn't with ill intent, but as a neurodivergent person who suffers from rejection sensitivity, i do understand your reactions and irdk how i would react to stuff like that if i were you, which is why i'm here so back to the point sjdj lol), i love when stories like yours give us space to talk about character development, but the reason i decided to come here and comment here is bc i really am so sorry you're feeling like this bc of people's out of line comments, i won't tell you that you should just ignore asks bc ik how hurtful some things can be, even if we try to brush them off, they affect you and it's okay to give yourself the space to feel it, and get over it, it's not an overreaction, you're human.

And though i understand if you're feeling so burned out that you don't think you wanna do this anymore after you are finished with your current stories, i hope from the bottom of my heart you don't, and not to prove ppl wrong or to be stoic or w/e or "for your readers" but just bc i hope this part of you stays with you for a long time, be it as a hobby or something more, you deserve it, you deserve to give yourself the right to keep doing this, bc you love it and bc you're good. Believe me, not everyone doing this for free can get this many people discussing, really discussing your characters and story like this (not meaning the hate or negative criticism, but people forming opinions and theories and trying to analyze the characters and turning into therapists skdjd and even people hating characters AND loving characters)... you're doing it right, so i hope, i really hope you keep this with you for a very long time and you get the chance to tell more stories, fanfics or otherwise, for yourself.

My only unsolicited advice to you rn would be, try to explain less, if we still misunderstand the characters after the light you've shed on them, it's on us, we're on our own, and it will be then on the story to speak for itself and clarify what it has to at the moment it has to (even if we, with our headcanons, aren't satisfied, we as a society really need to learn to deal with this! In media, to omg ok back to the point) when you decide it's time. You will save yourself a lot of headaches, for sure 🤭 and to people reading and getting frustrated with the pace, just bookmark the story and comeback in a couple months to binge read the chapters posted till then, you all will save lots of trouble too AND will spare our author from dealing with your bitter asses.

Anyway, i'm sorry for this essay lenght rambling idk if anything makes sense 😭 i just find all of this really sad, you deserve to feel joy with your works and i hope this passes again and doesn't come back! and yk take the time you need to clear your mind from all this, do what you need to do, after all the most important thing is that you feel well. We love your story and we are always rooting for you, i'm sure 💜

💜

It can get a little bit frustrating, okay sometimes a little bit too much, especially when I don’t answer certain questions they just keep going. The same ones all the time. I got like 4 messages on wattpad going something like “hey can you please tell me if the story ends with jk and y/n together please? I only read stories that end like this”🤯 I don’t even know how to reply to that since I said countless times I won’t be spoiling anything, not even in the messages individually. The thing with me explaining is usually when ppl directly ask me about it or give me feedback and I try to just share my thoughts on it. I always want them to make their own opinion while reading the story, not asking me. If you’d look for my older asks about mh, I actually asked people to read my stories more carefully but I’m always open to explain some things (things that don’t give spoiler), or just sharing my thoughts. I don’t see anything wrong with that and I’ve no idea what I did wrong or why this has become such a big deal all of a sudden. This happens every time I speak up and address certain things lol

Thank you for writing me all of this! You’re so sweet and kind, I want you to know that I really took your words to my heart. Thank you again!!💜🙇‍♀️

[steponmepinkjun]

I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

[dianapocalypse]

Kieran Shepard - Character Profile

(Systems Alliance vector by Deviantart User Karlika)

I got extremely carried away so let’s go under the cut

this only goes thru about the halfway point of Mass Effect 2 right now because I’m still working thru the game! I’ll update it when I’m done with ME2 and after ME3 probably.

Pre-Mass Effect 1

Kieran Shepard was born on Earth and grew up in the slums of Chicago. She was shuffled around various foster and group homes for her childhood, and the only sense of stability she knew was in the gang she was recruited to at a young age, the Tenth Street Reds. She was part of the "Clubs" suit of the organization, specializing in hitting hard and fast. She was outfitted with her biotic amps by the gang to make her more effective in close quarters combat. She grew up very distrustful of law enforcement and authority in general.

After a job went south when she was 16 and she ended up tied up in a homicide, she was given the option by the courts to go to prison or go to an 'alternative education' school funded by the Systems Alliance. It was her first taste of structure outside of the gang life, and she adapted to it better than expected, eventually falling in line with the Alliance’s way of doing things despite her initial resistance to trusting the authority of a large military organization. Upon her graduation at 18, she joined the Alliance military. She served under Captain Anderson on the SSV Tokyo, and was one of the Alliance marines on leave when the Skyllian Blitz hit Elysium. Leading the charge to defend the colony and using her years of experience of fighting dirty and coordinating disparate people in the Tenth Street Reds, coupled with her military education, she and the colonists beat back the invaders and she was awarded the Star of Terra.

After this point, Kieran’s dedication to being the Perfect Alliance Soldier intensified; there were eyes on her now, and expectations to meet. The impostor syndrome began setting in. She fought back against it by overworking herself to be better than the best, taking even the slightest mistakes as evidence she was worthless and going to be discovered as the fraud she was. This only got worse when Captain Anderson hand picked her to be his XO on the SSV Normandy.

Kieran kept a fairly stiff outward appearance and did her best to emulate Captain Anderson, thinking this was what was expected of her. Despite this, she, Jenkins and Joker managed to develop a sibling-like banter while the Normandy was being prepped for its first mission.

Mass Effect 1

Eden Prime was her first mission officially having a command, Elysium having taken place before she was promoted. Losing Jenkins so quickly was terrifying, proof that she wasn’t fit to be here. But, no time for that, she carried out the mission, recruited Ashley, was sucked into the Beacon, etc. No one seemed to blame her for Jenkins’ death, which only served to make her feel more fraudulent. Like now that she had authority, there was also a lack of appropriate consequences. Her old disdain for authority tried to breach above the water, but she forced it back down. She found some solace in Kaidan’s logical, clinical way of explaining things, including Jenkins’ death; it helped the Subjective feel more Objective, and she came to trust his opinions.

The Council’s reaction to Saren was, as it is for all Shepards, infuriating. Again, her old reasons for distrusting authority had one more ‘point’ in their corner. Still, she did her best to stay in line, to be the Soldier she needed to be, and eventually to be the Spectre she needed to be. Losing Captain Anderson to politics, though, shook her. Before, she had at least someone higher than her on the food chain to turn to when she was in over her head. Now, she was on her own.

She came to lean more heavily on Kaidan’s advice during this time, and on Joker for levity. She didn’t take well to Garrus; his history as a cop and constant complaints that red tape kept him from getting justice done ‘his way’ smacked of crooked cops on Earth. Still, when they clashed, he tended to back down and consider what she said. She enjoyed Wrex’s company, though, his old war stories reminding her of the senior members of her gang on Earth. She also enjoyed her talks with Ashley and Tali, the former because of her candor-- Kieran could at least be sure Ash was always honest with her--and Tali because she was the only person on board who seemed as out of place as Kieran felt. Plus, Tali’s a delight, who wouldn’t like her? She was fairly ambivalent to Liara, not sure if she viewed her as more of an extension of her Prothean research as a person, and they had their fair share of awkward conversations, but there’s no malice there.

Kieran’s next Major Event takes place on the Citadel, when a member of the Tenth Street Reds tries to blackmail her into using her newfound power and influence to release one of their own from prison. In the time since she left, they became an even more outwardly xenophobic organization, which rubs her the wrong way. Doing her best to be a Model Soldier, she immediately reports him to C-Sec, leading to a confrontation. In the heat of the moment, Kieran panicks. Her past is a matter of public record, but she can’t have him dragging her thru the mud, spreading lies, hurting her reputation and the Alliance’s. Her position is too precarious. They’ll find out that she’s a fraud, even if he’s lying. She shoots him, intending it as a warning, but killing him on the spot instead. (I wrote more about this here when I played that part of the game!) The Turian cop is impressed. Kieran is horrified, both by her actions, and by the cop’s approval of her killing him in cold blood. She returns to the Normandy and throws up.

I’m fudging the canonical timeline a little bit here, but I think this event is what leads into Kaidan telling Kieran the story of how he killed the Turian ‘teacher’ on Jump Zero as a way of helping her contextualize what just happened. They Bond. The rest of the game unfolds without too many more Major Character Moments that are unique to Kieran versus All Shepards. Wrex survives Virmire, Ashley doesn’t. Ash becomes the second to die under her command, the first to die as the result of an explicit choice she made to save the man she has feelings for. The guilt threatens to rip her in half, but we have a galaxy to save, so she does. She manages to talk Saren into realizing he is indoctrinated, but it’s too late for him. She leaves the council to die on the Destiny Ascension, not willing to risk losing firepower to use against the Reaper, and is infuriated when the political spin on the story becomes that she was ‘protecting human interests over galactic ones’. She does not understand why the lives of three politicians should outweigh thousands of soldiers or millions of civilians on the Citadel, and she never will.

Having never trusted Udina, Kieran nominates Captain Anderson to lead the new council. She spends the ensuing months cleaning up pockets of geth resistance with the Normandy crew before getting spaced by the Collectors, as all Shepards do from time to time.

Mass Effect 2

Kieran wakes up in a Cerberus facility and is horrified. She ran into Cerberus plenty in Mass Effect 1, and her impression of them is bad to say the least. After fighting her way through the facility under siege and being horrified by Miranda’s actions killing Wilson, she heads to Freedom’s Progress, all the while trying to figure out a way to get out of this, even tho she suspects The Illusive Man’s statements that she’s free to do as she pleases to be lies. No one invests that much without expecting returns, or demanding them. Her only solace is in Joker, who at least seems not to have changed much, and Dr. Chakwas. She tries to communicate to Tali on Freedom’s Progress that she doesn’t want to be here, tries to get her to come along for the mission, but at least for now, she can’t. She goes to Captain Anderson on the Citadel to try to bring the mission to the Alliance, the Council, anything to get away from Cerberus, but he cannot help her. Her old crew is unavailable, Kaidan’s location is classified, she can’t get messages out to any of her old crew without risking Cerberus reading them and someone has to stop the Collectors.

Even though the two had never been close, she is elated to see Garrus on Omega, in as bad shape as he is. At least he’s a familiar face and someone who doesn’t trust Cerberus. She bonds with Zaeed for similar reasons to Wrex; she likes his old war stories and he reminds her of the people she grew up with. And, he doesn’t treat her any differently because of her status. She’s still guarded around Jacob and Miranda, she doesn’t trust EDI, and she immediately gives Jack access to all of Cerberus’s files. The two don’t exactly get along, but they at least have hating Cerberus and their colorful backgrounds in common. Grunt at least is easy to understand for her; prove you’re strong, and he’ll respect you. Good enough for now.

Horizon hits Kieran like a truck. Seeing the Collectors in action is traumatizing enough; then she sees Kaidan, who she’s been wanting to talk to since she woke up, who she hoped would understand that she’s trapped, and he lays into her for a situation she feels she cannot control. He says she betrayed the Alliance, betrayed him, wonders if their relationship meant anything to her. She’s stunned. Until this point, the fact that she was gone for two years never really felt real, never sunk in. But now it’s undeniable. It’s changed her, it’s changed the people she cares about, and she feels like she truly lost everything. Even after getting his follow up email (which I highly recommend listening to the voice actor read), Kieran’s mental health is in shambles. It’s not enough to undo her self doubt spiral. He thinks she’s a bad guy now? That she’s a traitor? Fine. No point in fighting it, then. (To be clear, I personally don’t blame Kaidan at all for Horizon, nor Shepard, it’s just a shit situation, but Kieran’s self esteem is SHOT)

Kieran starts getting reckless in the ensuing missions. She starts taking a lot more renegade actions, in a gameplay sense, things she would never have done when she was trying to be the Perfect Soldier. Now, everyone already thinks she’s out of control, and she falls back into old habits. If everyone already thinks you’re bad, it’s easier to just become what they say you are.

I’ve only done Miranda’s loyalty mission so far, and the first exception to her current downward spiral into Renegade is Niket. His logic reminds her of Kaidan, as does how Miranda describes their friendship; she tells Miranda not to shoot, has a brief moment of clarity that oh, yeah, killing someone you were friends with is traumatizing, probably. Don’t do that. She and Miranda bonded a bit over that mission, I think; she still doesn’t like Cerberus, but she likes Miranda, and I think that counts for a lot for her.

That’s as far as I am in the game at the moment! Her current attitudes to the rest of the crew are: Jacob she is indifferent to but respects his honesty; she doesn’t like or trust Mordin due to his treatment of the Krogan and the sense of racial superiority over the Krogan; she likes Kelly and the engineers fine; she has a respect for Jack even if Jack doesn’t like her; she likes Garrus more now that he’s not so into his “justice by any means necessary” bit but we’ll see how his loyalty mission goes; she likes Kasumi; she is really glad to have Tali back, esp because she’s SO OUTWARDLY HOSTILE TO CERBERUS and it’s great; she likes Grunt and views Zaeed as kind of a fucked up father figure; she likes and trusts Chakwas and Joker; jury is still out on Thane but she at least can see he does his job well; and she CANNOT STAND SAMARA. Might end up going with Morinth on this playthru!

If you made it this far, holy shit, why???? Also thank you!!

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous)

“Sir SilverAsh?” Siege, hammer slung on her back, approached the CEO before they departed. “I’ve been assigned as your bodyguard for this assignment. Doctor’s orders.”

“Hmm...I didn’t request a Rhodes Island detail.” His eyes narrowed slightly.

She shrugged. “I saw the tasker and volunteered to fill it; why he sent it out is another matter.”

“Understandable.” He gave her elevator eyes, only to realize she’d given him the same. “Sizing up your ward?”

“More or less. I agree it doesn’t make much sense for the Truesilver Slasher to have a guard, but my hammer’s getting restless, so I am as well. Hopefully there’s enough action for all of us.”

SilverAsh smirked. “This is a business contract, so I don’t expect it’s likely to come to blows in that fashion, but I’ve certainly spilled more blood at less promising venues before.”

“Less promising?” Siege crossed her arms. “As in more peaceful?”

“More docile; none of these companies are truly peaceful, as I’m sure you’ve seen here at RI. Business is ruthless, and those at the top are absolute monsters...Hence my swordsmanship.”

She nodded. “Then let’s hope the monsters put up a decent fight.”

“Certainly.” He thought for a moment before extending his hand. “Enciodes SilverAsh, Chief of the Silverashes.”

“Verna, leader of Glasgow.” She shook his hand with near equal grip strength to his, despite the notable size difference. Encio took note of it, but not too seriously. After all, if the Doctor was going to send someone, it had to be someone Encio himself would have more trouble dealing with than it was worth...The fact that she was rather attractive only helped ensure that.

After taking a moment to decide which of them would enter their transport first (Encio, they determined after a bit of posturing), they set off for their destination: a merger negotiation with a small firm out of Victoria. Upon realizing where this meeting was being held, it clicked with Siege why the Doctor wanted to send her with SilverAsh...and also the reasons he should have sent someone, anyone else from Victoria besides Indra in her stead.

Those guarding the entrance to Victoria were particularly interesting in her presence in the three-vehicle procession. “Ey, wuddja lookee ‘ere! Glasgow’s finest, in the flesh! We’ve been waitin’ for you lot to come back-”

“I think you’ll find you’re mistaken,” Encio asserted. “This is Operator Siege of Rhodes Island, not whoever you’re talking about. Are you done making your false accusations and unnecessarily rifling through our papers?”

“...You don’t wonna mess with us, guv’na.”

His sword began to glow. “Likewise, gutter-lover.”

“Well that’s a new ‘un, itn’t it?” The copper drew his baton. “You wonna take a tumble, you bloody-”

“Sir SilverAsh has business in the city. This man could buy your entire precinct tomorrow; do you want to start a fight with your future boss while he isn’t concerned with your future in his company?”

Verna’s interruption gave both parties pause. Eventually, the border cops shrugged. “Eh, itn’t worth it. Let ‘em thru!”

“Thank you, Verna,” Encio said once they were out of earshot. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to deal with authorities as well as management, but it’s always better to avoid needless bloodshed.”

“Of course, Sir SilverAsh.”

He smiled. “Please, Encio’s more than fine.”

“After our business here, certainly, we shall be on first-name terms,” she replied, “but while we’re here, I’ll be playing a role to keep my identity under wraps.”

“As you wish.”

Siege shook her head. “I would recommend not holding future meetings in Londinium, whenever you can avoid it. Its residents, as a whole, leave something to be desired regarding their conduct.”

“Oh, really?” Encio leaned back in his seat. “Criminals?”

“Idealists.”

He blinked. “Idealists? Is there a rebellion fomenting here?”

“There’s a rebellion happening here.” She slipped a lollipop into her mouth. “Gangs rule the streets, whatever the authorities say. Glasgow used to hold territory here, but since we left for Rhodes Island, I doubt the others haven’t filled in the gap we left.”

“I see. Thank you for being candid with me, Ver- Siege.”

She nodded. “However I can be of service, sir.”

“Yes...” He looked out his window, mostly to keep himself from staring at her. “I’ll be taking you up on that, I’m sure.”

“Please do; I don’t make such offers lightly.”

As they arrived at the compound where they were meeting, it became clear they were not the first ones there...and judging by the bodies outside, they weren’t the only ones prepared for violence. Their team - SilverAsh and Siege, as well as Courier, Matterhorn, and a few others from the Silverash private military and the Karlan Trade Company, Ltd. - entered the premises after Siege busted through the thoroughly-locked door; she led the charge, bashing through the sturdiest of competition (specifically barriers to forward motion, like closed doors and inconvenient walls) while the rest cleaned up behind her...Until, that is, they reached the board room, where a single shot to her flank left her in need of medical attention. Those inside realized they’d shot one of their rescuers, however, as their future business partner entered the room.

As his medic stabilized Verna, Encio turned to the board of directors he was scheduled to meet with. “Which one of you shot her?”

“I did,” the company head admitted. “We didn’t realize she was one of yours-”

“Clearly. Your company’s assets will be subsumed within the week; use that time to prepare for interviews with my staffers.”

There was a commotion among the group, with one speaking towards SilverAsh. “Sir, we’ve been heading this company for some time-”

“And you expect some special privilege for that?” His sword was glowing inside its hilt. “You’re lucky you have this chance at all.”

“This is a hostile takeover! We won’t stand for this!”

Encio smiled as he drew his blade. “You won’t be standing at all, then.” One stroke, and the entire board, save one particularly meek individual, found themselves dead.

“...Thank you for sparing me, Sir.” The survivor kicked the corpse of the chairman out of his seat and sat down. “I’ll have an inventory of our assets ready when I have my interview.”

“See to it that it’s a complete one. I’m giving you another chance because you clearly aren’t from the same cloth as the others; prove me right.”

He stood and bowed. “Of course, sir...Is she going to be alright?”

“Morphine, status?” The Perro medic gave him a thumbs-up. “And with that, our transaction is complete. We’ll take you to a safer location, assuming you have digital access to your records?”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

Encio nodded, his eyes focused on Siege. “Come along, then. Is she stable enough to move?”

“Definitely,” Morphine confirmed. “The bolt itself mostly struck her intestines, so the regen work was fairly straightforward. She’ll want a work day of bedrest to make sure it holds and nothing leaks, but knowing her record, she’ll be right as rain not too long from now.”

“Good...Matterhorn, carry her to the car, please.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Set her next to me once we’re in the car.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not leaving anything to chance...”

The trip back to their caravan was straightforward; however, Encio requested they take a different, more elaborate route out of Victoria in order to avoid further skirmishes. Verna was asleep for the next few hours, SilverAsh holding her so that the occasional roughness of the roads didn’t aggravate her injury. Upon reaching their first stop, she began to stir.

“...Sir Silverash...have we left Victoria?” Her voice was quiet, but not necessarily soft.

“We have, Verna.” He helped her sit up next to him. “You don’t feel like your organs are about to spill out, do you?”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Should I?”

“They nearly did. My medic took care of it, but-” Before continuing that sentence, he thought better of it.

“But?” When he replied with silence, Verna sighed. “How did the deal go?”

Encio gestured to the new former CEO. “Our takeover was swift and efficient. He’ll handle their documents, and if he does well enough, we’ll find a place for him in the company.”

“...And what happened to the others?”

“Their chairman shot you, and everyone but him showed no visible reaction.” His face hardened. “That was simply unforgivable.”

She cocked her head. “Not to imply a lapse in judgment, but was that strictly necessary?”

“No, it wasn’t, but I got very little blood on my sword before that point, and their injuring you infuriated me immensely.”

“I see.” Verna mused over this for a moment. “Why?”

He shrugged. “You’re one of my people, and I don’t take that lightly.”

“That didn’t take very long. Any particular reason you decided this so quickly?”

“Well...you might look at it as an investment.” Encio smiled at her. “An investment in the future.”

She nodded. “So you’re thinking of your succession, then?”

“...Not just that-”

“I’m familiar with the concept, Encio.” Verna smiled back at him. “So long as you realize I don’t plan on leaving the battlefield and respect that appropriately, I’d be willing to give you an heir...or several.”

He blinked once, twice, thrice, before replying. “You’ve just made my life so much less complicated.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that. My past comes with some heavy baggage.”

“I’m no stranger to heavy loads, Verna.” He put an arm, and some of his greatcoat, around her shoulders. “And with one of my more pressing concerns dealt with, I’ve got strength to spare.”

She set her head against his side. “You have a very nice coat.”

“If you’d like, I can have one like it made for you.”

“No, that’s fine.” She realized she was purring, but honestly, she’d just secured her own bloodline as well and was basking in the moment, and Encio would be hearing far more than just her purring. “We can share this one.”

[trvelyans-archive]

okay well i’ve been thinking about wayhaven celandine all day so here’s a fact dump (under the cut because it’s Long):

religiously does her nails - she used to bite them down to the nub when she was a kid and had a tendency to pick at her hangnails until she was bleeding, so the only thing that stops her from doing that when she’s worried/stressed is by wearing nail polish/acrylics

online shops Way more than she should and spends too too too much money on her clothes. she wants to feel sexy and badass All The Time and intimidate people by feeling sexy and badass. lots of very very simple and understated tops but with sharp angles/silhouettes 

on the other hand, has a very minimalist house - she doesn’t have very many decorations or anything.... personal, really ? she has some fake plants to Liven the place up so it doesn’t look like an ikea set but besides that not much - pretty standard furniture, coasters, etc

was in the debate club in high school and fucking Rocked it. was 100% the top debater and the only time she ever really partied in high school was debate trips. she also played lady m*cbeth in 12th grade and like. was really good at acting ? briefly considered a career in it but wanted to do something more “respectable” (i say as a theatre major slkfjsdl)

she kept to herself in high school a lot besides that, and didn’t really get along with her teachers bc if they messed something up or said something dumb she Would Debate Them, yes she Is that type of person, yes it Does come from childhood trauma of her mother not being around and therefore celandine not respecting authority very much,

met bobby bc he was assistant stage manager for the show where she played lady m*cbeth lol !!! tbh she didn’t really care too much about bobby - sure, they dated for 3 years but she never really loved him, and it was never too serious of a relationship, they just went on dates and had sex a lot but didn’t really take it seriously or fully commit to each other

then, when he steals her essay or whatever it is and she finds out, she dumps his ass and doesn’t regret it for a second, mainly bc she feels embarrassed and angry that he got the better of her and somehow did that ? like stole her whole ass paper ? but also he’s crusty so she doesn’t really care besides that !!! she starts going on dates again right away so it doesn’t really matter, in fact bobby probably got the worst deal

keeps her dad’s wedding ring on her bedside table in a little ashtray. sometimes, when she’s INCREDIBLY sad or feels really lonely, she likes to hold it in her hand and talk to him. she doesn’t remember her dad, like, at all, but the only thing she ever wanted was for him to be alive so she wasn’t so lonely and didn’t grow up relying on only herself for so long

she’s really polite when someone needs her to be nice to them- she always thought that, if her dad helped protect people and took care of them, that she should when given the opportunity to make him proud. besides that, though, she isn’t at all friendly and can easily hint to someone that they should gtfo when she wants to be left alone - she just doesn’t really care about anyone else’s opinion of her really, she grew up so independent that herself is the only person she’s felt like she can rely on. tends to act polite anyway, if a little stiffly, because a lot of the time there’s no need to bitch someone out, but when she needs to... oh boy does she deliver

she likes tina and verda well enough, and tina is just generally hard to hate, even for someone like celandine. they’re pretty close and have had a couple of girls nights with wine and like. face masks and nail polish painting, but don’t do it very often because celandine doesn’t really want to do it very often slkfjslsdfk. having fun with people and getting close to people makes her second-guess every conversation she’s had with anyone ever and every person she’s pushed away so. it’s not good to dwell on it

she’s babysat for verda a couple of times and is actually decent with kids and is pretty good at Pranking them into eating their veggies and telling them exciting bedtime stories with voices and everything. she doesn’t do it anymore for a few reasons tho, mainly just that she doesn’t have the time

she is terrified of commitment because she just doesn’t have a lot of grace when it comes to relationships and feels like she is inevitably going to say something wrong or mean (not that she would, because like i said, when someone needs her to Not be mean, she isn’t mean) or she’s going to die/get busy and leave them feeling like she’s felt her entirely life and she’s had a very sad and lonely life so she wouldn’t wish that on anyone

that being said, once her and adam get together at Some point during the series, she just has. the absolute WORST baby fever. now that she is committed and has a future with someone - guaranteed bc no matter what happens her and adam will always stay together - she can not only be a better mom than rebecca ever was, but also she just wants to be the best mom in the world. she would be ! her kid would be so stylish and also would feel so loved and respected and cherished and she would kick the ass of any bully or teacher who tried to fuck with them !!! and she would be so good at bedtime stories and playing with her kid !!!

okay, so, now that the Fun facts are out of the way, onto her very obvious flaws: mean, likes to feel better than anyone, terrible spender (like terrible, i’m serious when i say she spends probably 40% of her work paycheck on clothes), absolutely so stubborn, gets really mad and belligerent when she’s proven wrong or loses at board games, no sense of artistry and is good at no artistic things besides acting lol LKSDJFLDS, stans Shakespeare and reads his books for fun, finds looking thru ikea catalogues and furniture catalogues relaxing, showers every day, has a 1 hour bedtime routine, and, on the other end of that, she cannot be roused out of bed if she doesn’t want to be !!! 

but she has good qualities too !!! she’s not Evil, she’s just mean, so she does have a good heart and DOESN’T like when people are cruel and hurt other people on purpose (something she very rarely does unless someone is rlly pissing her off), will do work for you if you need her to (her love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service), and if you’re close friends and once she’s let down her guard a bit throughout the series, she WILL be really fun at parties bc she is very witty, she is very supportive of you and yet will be honest if you need her to be, and she really will be super loyal to you for a long time - she’s scared of commitment but, when faced with the need to commit, she will do it !!!

also she’s a master couponer so if you’re her friend FUCK buying things full price, she’ll find you the best goddamn deal in the world !!!

her and adam’s date night ideas are: 1 - sparring together ! 2 - playing board games together that ends with the winner giving the loser consolation smooches until they feel like a winner too :) 3 - reading shakespeare together :) 4 - going on walks !!! 5 - doing work together and distracting the other with an occasional smoomch or a Loving Declaration before handing them the pen they asked for !!! 6 - drinking red wine and celandine asking adam for Juicy Historical Gossip ;3 7- sleeping !!! celandine isn’t grumpy if she wakes up to hot man smooches

okay that’s all i got thanks for reading okay bye