#jfc i wish i had to words to talk about that

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

[thetriumphantpanda]

i'm not the only one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | You have your baby. You have your family. But can you really have everything you want? Can you really have your cake and eat it too?

Warnings | Fluff, mentions of breastfeeding, small children (in my world they need to come with a warning because ew), let's say it one more time for old times sake: TOMMY GETTING CUCKED BECAUSE HE LOVES IT, dirty talk, fingering (f) and allusions to other smut.

Word Count | 1.9k

Authors Note | Wow. I just wanted to take some time to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and supported me through this little fic. What started as a filthy little one-shot has become something super special to me. I'm so proud with how this turned out and I really hope that you love this ending as much as I do. I need to say a massive thank you to the JFC - @cavillscurls @dinsdjrn @morning-star-joy @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers for continuously losing their mind over this fic with me and helping me come up with the ending where no-one gets their heart broken, I love you girls more than I can express 🧡 Thank you to each and every person who has read this, has given me their love, interacted with me and generally just made me the happiest girl for deciding to come back to fic writing. You're all awesome and I love each and every one of you. Please let me know what you thought of this, either by commenting, reblogging or sending me some love in my ask box, and if you'd like to support me with a donation, you can do so over on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The late September sun is still warm, even as it begins dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a beautiful mix of pink and orange. The beer in your bottle is lukewarm, but you finish it off anyway, attention dropping to your son, sat on your knee, as you bounce it up and down to keep him occupied at the table. He’s just turned two and is a much better table companion at Joel’s birthday cook-out than he had been last year. He’s starting to show a little personality, babbling along when Sarah tried to talk to him, teasing Tommy when he hands his son a toy, throwing it to the ground because he already knows he’ll pick it right back up and play along. 

Everyone else has long gone by this point in the evening. This year’s celebration of Joel’s birthday being held at your house because he’s having his garden landscaped. It’s just the five of you, the people who matter most to you in life, sat around, finishing drinks and just enjoying each other’s company. Sarah yawns to your left, the day finally catching up with her. 

“You tired, bug?” Joel asks, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

“I’m not tired.” But she yawns again, chuckles erupting from the table. 

You poke at her arm, “Your room is ready whenever you are.” It had already been agreed that Sarah and Joel would stay here tonight, so he could have a drink and enjoy his birthday without worrying about driving home. 

To her credit, she lasts another hour sat at the table, but once Joshua starts fussing as well, it’s clear it’s time for everyone to call it a night. Joel kisses Sarah on the forehead, wishing her a goodnight as she heads inside. Tommy takes Joshua from your arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head, leaving you and Joel together for the first time that evening. You reach out your arm across the table, palm up to the darkening sky, Joel’s own, much larger hand, slipping into it. 

“Shall we go?” You ask, the smile across your face mirroring his own. 

“I think we should.” 

As you’re walking through the neighbourhood your mind drags back to this time last year and the conversation with Tommy as Joel’s birthday loomed on the horizon. 

“What do you think we should get him for his birthday?” Tommy asked, flipping through the catalogue of construction gear that comes through the letterbox every few months, “He was saying his toolbox is too small these days, maybe we can get him a bigger one?” 

Joshua is cradled against your chest, suckling as you feed him. You’d always wondered how the other women you knew could multitask before he’d been born. One of your best friends could breastfeed her child, cook dinner and talk to her older daughter all at the same time. Now, standing in the kitchen feeding your son, two pans on the stovetop as you cook, holding a conversation with Tommy, you realise it just came naturally. 

“I mean, we can,” You throw over your shoulder, “But I think that man deserves more than a toolbox for his birthday.” 

Once Joshua has finished feeding, you hand him to Tommy, along with placing a rag over his shoulder – you fed him, Tommy gets to burp him, that’s the deal. 

“I just feel bad,” You comment, going back to pushing the steak around the pan, “Do you not feel like you’ve kinda just abandoned him a little?” 

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks, patting his son on the back. 

You sigh, trying to focus on cooking as you speak, “I just mean that he did this for us, gave us this life we have now, and what are we going to do to thank him? Give him a toolbox? Just seems like we don’t care.” 

“Well, what would you suggest?” He asks, you're quiet in response, trying to think of how best to put this, "You miss him, don't you?" He finally asks.

You turn around, leaning against the counter to the side of the stove, “I do miss him,” You say simply, not afraid to admit it, “You said before Joshua was born that you understood the connection we have, I just want to give him something good.” 

Tommy has Joshua cradled in his arms now, trying to get him to go to sleep so he can lie him down and enjoy dinner with you in peace, "You wanna fuck him for his birthday?" There's a smirk on his lips, just like there was when you'd needed Joel before Joshua was born.

“Hey, language!” You chastise, pointing to his son in his arms, “Don’t say it like that either, you know you come first, you always have, I love you Tommy, but can’t we just give him one time, once a year, where I can really show him how grateful I am for what he gave us?” 

You can see him mull it over in his mind as he bounces his son in his arms before he relents, “Okay,” He’s smiling, and it reaches his eyes, so you know he really means it, “If that’s what you want, I’m happy.” 

You smile, walking over to kiss him, “I don’t deserve you,” You murmur against his lips, “I love you so very much, Tommy Miller.” 

Joel thinks, as he walks hand in hand with you back to his home, that he really didn’t need this. He didn’t need thanking for what he’d done. He remembers walking into your hospital room with Sarah after Joshua had been born – she’d insisted on picking the biggest and brightest bouquet of flowers for you and had been so excited to finally meet her nephew. He’d pushed open the door for her that day and had been overcome with a strange sense of satisfaction. 

You were propped up in bed, Joshua cradled in your arms, his tiny hand clutched around one of your fingers, Tommy stood, hand brushing your hair as he looked down at the both of you with pure adoration. He knew he’d given you everything in that moment, that he’d managed to make the two of you the happiest people ever, and that was enough. A fleeting moment in time between you and him, that had created the most beautiful baby boy he’d ever laid eyes on, he’d been happy to let it lie, to wait and see if you wanted more and came back to him down the line. 

He hadn’t expected that on his birthday last year, you’d have cornered him and kissed him with such passion that he wasn’t sure he’d survive once he pulled away from you. Then you explained, one night a year, he could choose when, where you could show him how thankful you were to him. A night just to yourselves, without Tommy’s eyes trailing over you both. Secret and sacred between the two of you. 

Once Joel has unlocked his front door and brought you inside, he wastes no time. He craves this, has spent the last year thinking of the moment he gets to fuse his lips with yours. It’s soft, as his mouth opens against yours, slow as your tongues meet, he doesn’t have to rush with you anymore, he gets you to himself for the whole night. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Hey.” You smile softly. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” He’s smiling, palms resting at your hips, “You want me to take you upstairs? 

You bite at your bottom lip and breathe out, “Yes.” 

He leads you up the stairs, your hand clutched in his own, through the threshold of his bedroom. He settles himself on top of his sheets, head propped up on his pillows as he motions you to join him. You clamber onto the bed, crawling up his body on your hands and knees until you’re straddling his hips with your mouth back on his. 

As you grind your hips down onto him, his hands coming to cup your ass under your dress, you can feel him growing hard for you. All you want is to strip him down and put your mouth on him, but it seems he has other ideas, and since this is all for him, you let him take the lead. He slips his hands under the waistband of your panties, warm hands on your flesh as he pulls them down as far as they’ll go in this position. 

“Lie down for me, babygirl.” He whispers against your lips, you oblige, settling yourself down on your back as he pulls your underwear off fully, shucking the hem of your dress up to your hips. 

He’s got one of his arms under your head, his lips at your ear as you spread your legs for him, letting his fingers slip through your folds to gather the slick that has slowly been gathering there all evening as you both watched each other, knowing what was coming. 

“So wet for me, pretty girl,” He breathes into your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth to nibble as he slips two of his fingers into your tight pussy, “Been thinking about me?” 

He drags those fingers from your core, up to your clit where he begins to play soft circles across it, it’s so gentle that your breath catches in your throat as you arch yourself into his hand, “Couldn’t stop,” You admit, turning your face to kiss his lips, “Thought about you all day.” 

He dips his fingers back into your cunt as he kisses you, you can feel him smirk against your lips when you grind down to meet his fingers, “I’ve been thinking about you all year, hot mama, couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.” 

He brings his slick fingers back up to your swollen bundle of nerves, showering it with attention as you whimper for him, arching your back and bucking your hips, fingers gripping at his arm as he works you to the crest. You come for him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses you, his fingers making sure they work you for every ounce of your orgasm. 

Joel has you more times than he can count that night. He brings you over the edge over and over again until you can do nothing but sob, beg for a reprieve but beg him not to stop. You let him put you in positions you didn’t know possible, his cock thick and heavy inside you, brushing that spot within you that makes you sing and scream for him. He fills you up with his cum, protected by the pill you take each morning, and then, when the sun is rising and the beginnings of the day break through his drawn curtains, you lie on his chest, fingers drawing patterns on his skin, slick with sweat. You’re both sore, both spent, and both happy, most importantly. You know that within the hour you’ll have to start the walk back to your own home and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Sarah will think her dad slept on your couch and you were in your rightful place, in bed next to Tommy, and that's how it will continue to be for another year, happy with the man you love, but safe in the knowledge that you still have this slice of heaven each year. The play will continue for another year – the doting uncle and niece, the happy family with their growing son, and you’ll be happy, because this is all you’ve ever needed. 

“I love you.” Joel whispers, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as he brushes the sweat slicked hair from your face, his eyes mapping every inch of you, claiming this scene as his own, committing it to memory so he has one thing he can think of, in the depths of his nights, when he feels the loneliest. To remind him that he’s not lonely at all, because even if he can only have you once a year, at least he can have you. He’s a simple man and he’s happy to take this one moment with you, until you decide you want more from him, if that’s ever the case. 

“I love you too Joel.” 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller angst #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fan fiction #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Tommy Miller #Tommy Miller smut #Tommy Miller fluff #Tommy Miller angst #Tommy Miller fic #Tommy Miller fanfic #Tommy Miller fanfiction #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller x female reader #Tommy Miller x f!reader #The Last Of Us #The Last of Us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou smut #tlou fic #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal

[invisiblegarters]

Okay, okay.

After even more thinking maybe just maybe Ray's explosion on Sand was karmic retribution lol.

Because I've been thinking about it and.

Well.

This was not a heat of the moment plan for him. Not even a little. Dude had to get his drink (that poor server jfc what did she ever do to either of those messy bitches), go back to his mom, probably give her a ride home.

And then he still cold bloodedly broke his own phone (which let's be real for someone living like Sand does that is DEDICATION to his goal), then came in laying it on super thick about his mom to Nick so that he'd rush to fix it and lend him his. Sent himself the audio.

Then he called Ray up and invited him out to hang after blowing him off for who knows how long (and Ray clearly thought they were there to make up, okay, I might not be this ship's biggest supporter but even I could see that) just so he can use his feelings for Mew against him.

The conversation was so fucked, too. Sand immediately (and repeatedly I say again I'm not this ship's biggest supporter but one of them was actively trying here and it wasn't Sand) steering it away from Ray's attempts to talk about them to swerve to Mew is just...I love it. Complimenting Mew and saying he can totally see why everyone is in love with him? The way he played the audio right there (you are all so creepy for this my god will you please stop playing that clip at each other like the world's most fucked up game of telephone?). The casual drop that he knows how bad Top is because he also lost a lover to him (oh the parallels he deliberately put down there Sand you evil genius). And then rounding it up with "it's so great Mew has someone who cares about him as much as you."

All the while watching him to see how well his words were taking root. I'm floored because I genuinely thought he was gonna pull some stupid selfless bullshit like "I can't have you but I can give you what you want." Instead he just torpedoed several relationships and all it took was breaking a phone he knows his IT roommate will probably fix for free.

Boston fucking wishes.

It's so mean and I love it my dude is finally showing off just how fucked up he can be when crossed I think this is better than the baseball bat.

#only friends #only friends the series #sand ofts

[hadeantaiga]

We were talking about "kids these days", but not in a "fuck them" kind of way, in a "jfc they desperately need help and I guess that's gotta be me" kind of way.

This fall was the first group of incoming college freshman who'd spent most of their highschool years in COVID lockdown, and y'all. You struggled. And I'm sad you struggled. I didn't have a lot of control over the class I taught this semester, it was all online and the content was pre-made.

But I'm getting hired (I hope) as a full professor next fall, and I have many ideas.

Week 1, we're going to learn how to use the online learning tools, even if it's an in-person class. A lot of students this semester missed 10% of their grade because they couldn't find some of the content. So you guys need help learning how to use these systems, and that's definitely my job.

Also Week 1, I'm going to introduce note-taking tools, methods, and techniques. A lot of kids have no idea how to take notes. It's a skill you have to be taught.

Week 2, I'm going to start them on how to find real sources online, and how to vet the sources they're reading. Someone I talked to today said "the problem isn't that they can't find information, it's that there's too much information, and most of it isn't true". So that's going to be a theme for the whole semester.

Some time before the first test I'm going to teach studying techniques. Again - a lot of kids just don't know how to study. How can I expect them to do well on a test if they can't study for it??

And then, throughout the semester, I'm going to teach a mix of computer skills, including file structure and navigating the system, saving files as PDFs, using Acrobat, Word, Excel, PPT, and programs like that. I'm going to introduce them to Zotero and how to integrate it into Word because the sooner you learn how to do that the happier you will be when you're writing big term papers in your 400 level courses.

Anyway. Those are my starting ideas.

Did anyone else struggle this semester? What do you wish someone had taught you how to do?

#education #students #student life #studyblr #college

[darklinsblog]

Queen Mother | Sandman Imagine

Summary: Being Morpheus’ wife and Queen to a beautiful realm, you became a mother figure to all your subjects.

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader

Request: Yes

Author’s note: Jfc I didn’t realize until now how hard it can be to find a GIF of this man smiling we love the wet emo cat but it makes my job harder when doing fluffy stuff like this 😩🤚🏼

When Morpheus and you got married, you understood better than anyone everything you were marrying into. Yes, you were marrying Morpheus, but you were also marrying the whole universe and the people of the Dreaming.

To Morpheus it was surprising how you understood and took all that responsibilities with such grace and modesty he felt proud of calling you his.

You were immediately involved in anything that had to do with the kingdom, you were interested in hearing the people from the realm, and the people from the Dreaming felt comforted as their queen made them feel important and heard.

While your husband took care of his creations and safeguarding the sleep of the whole world, you would visit your subjects, and engage with them.

Everyone considered you so important to the realm. You had become a mother figure to people around you, a role model, a safe place to go to.

Morpheus was a great king, everyone respected him. But he was undoubtedly, an imposing and dark presence, which most of the time scared people.

But you were a heartwarming person, someone approachable, someone who you wanted to tell your secrets to.

The King of Dreams was happy that his people now had you, as you had become the bridge of communication between him and his subjects.

Everyone came running to you as soon as they saw you, giving you countless gifts or just waiting to greet you and wish you a good day.

You had earned the name of Queen Mother due to the deep affection they had for you, it was also a way of acknowledging the bond you had with everyone.

This was a little of a shock to you, being recognized as a mother figure was a big deal but you grew fond to it; but Morpheus hadn’t heard this specific popular nickname of yours.

One day, when he had finally made some time clear in his agenda to be with his wife, you two decided to go on a long walk around the kingdom and as soon as people saw you the name started coming out.

“Good evening, Queen Mother!”

“Lovely day today, Queen Mother”

Your lovely husband was confused at first, but seeing how you responded, he was quick to realize they were talking to you, he chuckled under his breathe, trying to hold back the smile that was forming in his lips.

“What?” You asked, giggling yourself and you were weak to your husband’s contagious laugh.

“Nothing, my dear… It just seems to me that now I will have to compete for your attention against my whole kingdom” he teased, making you roll your eyes

“Well, what can I say? I am a charming woman”

“Indeed, you are. But truly, I am glad that our kingdom adore you as do I, of course. You have been nothing but a blessing to me and the realm itself”

You appreciated such words from your husband, because you knew he spoke in all honesty and with his heart, something you loved about him. There were no words to express your gratitude to this people and your spouse, as, it had been a blessing for you as well.

So, you could only smile, laying your head softly on Morpheus’ shoulder as you continued to walk hand in hand and he kissed your forehead lovingly.

#the sandman comics #sandman imagine #sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus dream #sandman x reader #tom sturridge x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus #morpheus imagines #sandman x y/n #sandman shitpost #tom sturridge

[thatdeadaquarius]

after scrolling through your posts i felt complelled to send an ask (i wonder why)

This kinda? relates to all the languages posts you've been making (was giggling and kicking my feet while reading them, and got inspired) but because I only speak English, I wanted to put a twist on it.

Creator who has audio processing issues and doesn't realise that Teyvat DOES actually speak the same language as them for a good while.

Because as a person with very good hearing, i sure don't fucking understand what people are saying most of the time, especially in big crowds. (its like listening to the sims sometimes man, i'm fighting for my life trying to understand😭)

So imagine a Creator getting dropped into Teyvat and getting found by a group of hunters or treasure horders, who instantly start panicking and talking all at once because 'omg our god is here' and all that.

And the Creator is still confused and diorientated, so all they're hearing is ✨words✨and they just assume that no one in Teyvat will understand them.

And then when they arrive in one of the nations and get to meet the vision bearers for the first time, the Creator makes a thirsty comment about one of them (probably would be Diluc in my case) and the entire crowd just goes SILENT.

So silent that the Creator can perfectlly understand what that vision bearer said in response.

Anyway, i love your blog :) not sure when you're going to get this, time zones are funny, but I hope you like it

Giggling and kicking?? Over my stuff??? 🥺🥺🥺💘💘💘 You sneaky little charmer ✨️

ALSO

AUDIO PROCESSING DISORDER ASK!!!!?????!!!!

:D

IM IN THE MIDDLE OF TRYING TO GET ADHD DIAGNOSIS AND GOT AN APD TEST NOT TOO LONG AGO BC THOUGHT I HAD IT!!

FRIENDO!! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!! ✨️✨️✨️🌸🌸🌸

Have a cookie!! 🤲🍪 tysm for the ask im very very happy to see it!! :D!!

(subliminalmessagingyouwillgoclicktheaskbuttonandsendmeanasksubliminalmessaging)

AHFJDLLAHFAAJSK!! LOSING IT OVER THIS!!

(Me from the future editing: Sorry i wrote an entire sloppy written scenario over this its diluc focused, jfc sorry and i hope u get smth outta it 💀)

Oh good lord you being some kind of Creator god after getting sucked into the goddmn video game world is absolute HELL for your APD

Aint nobody tellin u nothing bc i can totally see that scenario happening bc everyone is like blabbering at you constantly, they all wanna get close to you to talk so its just [insert that general cafe crowd noises here]

Like u wish u had lofi to go with it bc u sure as hell cant get a word in edgewise

I know i keep writing abt Mondstadt, mostly bc first city -> intro to game -> therefore you land there

But i promise ill branch out guys but i got an excuse this time u mentioned Diluc 🔥

Honestly bc u probably arent trying to talk back to them (which they dont rlly know why? Bc they totally have heard ur voice while u were in ur world, when they were ur vessels)

They kinda assumed either A. You lost your voice B. You're overwhelmed, ppl r getting WAY too close to you, back off Npcs C. Or you don't speak THEIR language

So ofc Mondstadt brings you into the city and their planning a big ol festival, u came right in time for Windblume anyway, and by the time your done shaking hands and just waving and smiling (bc what else can u do u cant hear these fuckers, maybe u caught a "the" or a "hello" but you could've definitely been imagining it)

And finally you are free of the general crowd, but most of the Vision bearers (Allogenes) who were ur vessels wanna stick around, so u all end up in Angel's Share somehow

It's hella packed, and it's a bar.

So yeah u still can't hear shit, and now it just sounds like one of those fantasy medieval bar audios ambience videos

Ur just kinda kicking ur feetsies on a bar stool while like,, 4 or 5 differrent special character dishes are sitting in front of you

Diluc's behind the bar, and has been so sweetly attentive to you all evening, no matter how many tipsy patrons come up yelling for refills or drinks (or at least thats what u assume, bc u kinda end up just,, jumping and hitching ur shoulders up and trying to be lowkey about covering ur ears...)

He always comes and refills ur glass when it gets to even half-full, swiping away plates that have gone cold, and if you still want smth off of it, he's so perceptive no language needed bc he just sees your face and starts heating up the plate again with his vision with his hand :)

He's actually been the best thruout all this bc he already isn't super talkative, so ur pretty sure you've only seen his mouth open a few times, but otherwise u just communicated with him via actions/expressions

So ur chilling, well sorta, ur starting to kinda get overstimulated by the day and now this loud ass bar, and the fact that ur convinced no one speaks English here...

But hey!

Diluc's cool, u got food, and maybe u can charade to him u wanna find somewhere to retire to now for the night,,

You try and do that but he's pretty busy running around still,

"Damn, at least I get to see his ass though."

.

..

...

Diluc freezes.

You freeze.

Jean, Lisa, Venti, Amber, Kaeya, Rosaria freezes.

The whole bar goes silent.

Their god of gods finally spoke.

Oh they can understand you alright. (Also u were looking right at Diluc when you said it so, kinda obvious who u mean, somebody points to you behind Diluc)

Diluc just kinda,, sputters, like jerkily turns around and everything like a fried robot

"I- ahem- I- um- y-your Grace- I-"

Poor guy.

He doesn't even know what to say 🤷‍♂️

He has been progressively getting closer and closer to his hair color, his cheeks, his neck, his ears its a full white boy flush he cant escape its so obvious (should he say thank you? How do u even begin to thank a god for complimenting ur ass??!!)

He's caught between facing you and turning around and ducking back into the kitchen and never coming out again (unless it's just you two)

...Was it always this hot in here? Or did Diluc do this to you? 😵‍💫

(Well at least it's a lot quieter now)

You take the next logical step in this situation, and gently let your head thud into the bar.

...

It's a tie between Venti and Kaeya who busts out laughing first.

CHRIST ALMIGHTY IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HOPE TUMBLR MAKES IT "READ MORE" BC I CANT FIND THAT OPTION ON MOBILE

IF U KNOW WHERE THAT BUTTON IS PLS LET A BITCH KNO 😭😩

UPDATE I FIGURED IT OUT FUCK YEAH

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

#over the fucking moon rn #foaming at the mouth an APD ASK??!! #on my blog!!! #*chefs kiss* #pls feel free to send any disorders/disability asks!! #i will do my best!! #genshin imagines #genshin impact #sagau #gender neutral reader #genshin sagau #genshin sagau ideas #my asks #ask box is open #please send asks #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin diluc #diluc imagines #genshin isekai #genshin god reader

[lovelywoos]

then came you | l.jh

genre: opposites attract au, highschool au, strangers to friends to lovers; fluff, comedy, angst!!

pairings: introverted!woozi x extroverted!reader (y/n uses they/them pronouns, but small scene where it mentions that y/n wears a skirt)

word count: 7.9k... jfc

warnings: swearing, a fight scene (not violent, more like a lot of swearing), and the fight scene has a lot of repetitive swear words because i don’t swear that much help :”)

description: in which you, the student council vice president, and lee jihoon, the quiet boy in the back of the class, fell in love despite your differences.

a/n - this was a lot of fun to write but near the end of editing it i was literally pushing SHOVING this out of my drafts to publish im so sick of it now. i rushed the editing so ... forgive me pls. ***fight scene is also inspired by the ep 3 of the kdrama “our beloved summer.”

one. meet cute

well, if it wasn’t for the consequences of your actions smacking you right on the face. yes, you should’ve studied more for that physics test. and studied harder. but also yes, student council duties needed attention. that group project for math was very time-consuming as well in your defense!

all those excuses and yet you still broke down.

sitting and hiding under a table in your school’s music room was becoming familiar. sometimes you wish you weren’t so outspoken or eager because now you’ve bitten off more than you can chew and are suffering the exhaustion from it.

but anyways, thank god for sound-proof music rooms! (your sniffles were beginning to inch their way towards sobs…)

“you okay?”

you jump at the sudden voice, head bumping against the desk with a heavy thud.

you blink up at the voice’s owner, furrowing your brows in annoyance.

the pale boy stammers in shock, struggling to put together his words. he heard you crying while entering the room, but seeing your puffy and bloodshot eyes made him wonder if he should’ve just made a 360 and left the room the first time he heard sniffles.

“s-sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” he stutters, rushing to you as you make your way out from under the desk. he quickly puts a hand under the desk, making sure you don’t bonk your head a second time.

you get up, quickly wiping your tears away from your face with the sleeves of your school uniform, the boy could get a good look at your face.

l/n y/n. student council’s vice president and class representative. he knew you very well. everyone did really. you were always all over the place talking to people, socializing, getting things done, and leading the way. you definitely didn’t know him though (he was right).

“it’s fine. don’t worry about it,” you assured, smiling slightly in an attempt to ease his obvious nerves.

you sigh before adding, “just don’t… tell anyone, yeah?” you read his name tag pinned on the chest of his uniform. lee jihoon.

“of course, don’t worry about that.”

“okay well, i have to get going now! see you around!” you send a friendly wave, walking for the door as jihoon interrupts you.

“wait! here, ta-take this,” he hands you a wrinkled napkin he had just pulled from his pockets.

when you stare at his outstretched hand, jihoon explains, “for your tears… although you’re not crying anymore, huh.”

you hold in your smile seeing the napkin most definitely from lunch that was just placed in your hand. so cute.

jihoon watches as you make your way out of the music room, thanking him, making him promise one last time to not tell anyone about today, and saying a goodbye.

so when you close the door behind you, he sighs with a gentle smile on his face. so cute.

two. i hate everyone but you

“lee jihoon!”

before becoming friends with lee jihoon, people should know that jihoon hates five things: people who touch him, annoying people, talkative people, being told what to do, and opening up.

and you haven’t seemed to pick up on these things yet after being friends for about… two months? but for you, it was bearable.

so whenever you march up to his desk, he doesn't complain.

“your group mates just told me how you haven’t attended any of the work meets they planned!” you sighed, pressing your lips together. “and take those damn earbuds out!”

“okay, okay. sorry,” jihoon leans back in his chair with tired eyes before explaining, “i’ve been doing my share of the work anyway, so why does it matter? i can’t be needed that much.”

you pout before sitting at the empty desk in front of him. you also notice how his eyes seem so focused on his hands all of a sudden.

you poke his forehead with your forefinger, making him look up to look at you with wide eyes.

“it’s just me, be honest,” you say in the gentlest tone jihoon’s ever heard from you.

he takes a moment to think before nodding. you smile and lean in, ready to hear his side of the story.

“they’re not the greatest people. i overhear them sometimes and they’re always gossiping. i don’t think i’d be able to stand being in a room with all of them talking for like two hours,” jihoon finally explains, but he’s taken aback as he sees your attentive and genuine expression.

he clears his throat and adds, “in conclusion, they give me a headache, and being with them for hours would drain my social battery for the day, no, week.”

jihoon forgets to mention that being around his group would be unbearable also because you were a common topic amongst their gossip. he remembers the day when one of his partners said you were such a teacher’s pet only for the sake of impressing the student council’s president, choi seungcheol.

he quite literally had to take a step outside before he said something he would regret because l/n y/n doing something for male validation? he would laugh in their faces if he had the courage.

“i see… it’s alright, i’ll see what i can do. don’t worry, jihoon! just focus on your part of the work and let me do the talking!” you grin, standing up abruptly.

jihoon just smiles up at you and nods, not surprised at how you were going to speak in his defense once again (this was becoming the new norm as you two became friends).

before turning to leave, you reach a hand out to ruffle his dark black hair, messing it all up. you quickly dash off, not letting jihoon scold you.

he hides his smile and growing blush as he reaches up to fix his hair.

jihoon still hates five things: people who touch him, annoying people, talkative people, being told what to do, and opening up. but if they come in the form of you, he doesn't seem to mind so much. especially if every time he reluctantly opens up, you always seem to understand him.

three. what was this feeling?

“i swear to god if i don’t beat her, she’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

jihoon was about to lose it. you were pacing back in forth in front of him. every time you had finally stopped moving or talking, he would place the sunscreen in your hand so you could apply some on your face yourself before your race. but every single time he did, you just gave him a look and shoved it right back into his hands, continuing your rant.

“she keeps going on and on about how the class representative should be good at everything including athletics and so sports day should be a breeze for me! why do class representatives have to go last in the relay? it’s so weird! i could be helping student council pass out waters right now or something like…”

your words fade away as his attention diverted to the couple a few feet down the bench from you two. the girl squeezed some sunscreen onto the back of her hand before applying it to her boyfriend’s face.

and to be honest, he couldn’t even remember who you were talking about anymore! yuna was it? or maybe yuri? yura??

so fuck it.

“i think she’s just jealous she’s in a lower class than me! because what other reason could—"

jihoon grabs your hand, pulling you down next to him. as your mouth hangs open in surprise and confusion, he twists the cap off, throwing it to the side and squeezing some onto the back of his hand. he takes a deep intake of breath.

jihoon slaps (not that hard actually) his sunscreen-covered fingers on your forehead making you freeze. unable to form words, sounds even, you just stare at his focused eyes, the slight furrow of his brows as he spreads the sunscreen on your face.

you curse the heat, maybe also your flustered emotions, as your cheeks warm up when you take in the close proximity between you two and also because his cold, pretty hands were on your face!! he was so gentle and cautious with you that you had a feeling he was as panicked as you were right now.

as you were freaking out and praying he couldn't hear the pounding of your heart, jihoon was busy wondering if this was too much. was this weird? was he making you uncomfortable??

jihoon, now much more uncomfortable with the sudden silence, began to change the subject. “you know someone so thoughtful of their skincare shouldn’t forget to put on sunscreen.”

when you responded with a flustered silence, he snorts as you refused to maintain eye contact with him.

he takes your silence as pre-anxiousness for your event, instead of it being because of his bold actions. “you’ll be fine in your race. so beat yuri, get this day over with, and let’s do something after school together, yeah?”

so he did listen to your rants.

it made you think. when was the last time someone paid attention to your rambling? when was the last time someone cared enough to want you to put sunscreen on? when was the last time someone comforted you even when you didn’t show you were troubled?

"anyways!" jihoon yells as he jumps up from the bench, "you still have some sunscreen on your face, but I've done enough so..." (way to ruin the moment, jihoon...)

you felt your heartbeat quicken when jihoon pulled you up from the bench by hand and gave your head a couple pats to calm the anxiety.

“so remember why you wanna win and use that to motivate you. you got this, y/n!” he holds a fist up, truly wishing you the best even though you very well knew he had no care in the world for today’s sports day.

what was this feeling?

four. it's love

the moment you start running, jihoon felt his hands get clammy and heart start pumping though he wasn’t even running. okay, so maybe he was completely listening to your rants even if he didn’t want to. maybe he did want you to beat yuri because he loved seeing you so passionate about something and always rooted for your success.

so as you passed yuri in your relay right before the finish line, maybe he did jump from his seat and start cheering. for once, he ignored all the stares from people around him who were shocked to hear his voice louder than class-speaking volume. he was just so so excited to see you sprint past the finish line with the biggest smile on your face as your classmates rushed over to congratulate their class representative.

he watches as you scan the bleachers, eyes lighting up as you find his eyes and mouthed the words, ‘i won!’

jihoon nods with a smile, sending you two thumbs up as you laugh before turning away to talk to your friends.

despite you being surrounded by so many people and him on the bleachers by himself on sports day, he still can’t help but finally realizes he likes you. he always has despite all the differences. lee jihoon likes you. and his smile never fades away upon processing this fact.

five. the argument

it’s been 11 days, 10 hours, and 34 minutes since jihoon had spoken a word to you. at first, you decided to keep track of the days so you could use it as a point to argue with jihoon. but that was ultimately thrown out of the window when jihoon remained giving you the silent treatment and no argument, not a single word from him was in sight (you did not expect this). he probably just needs some time alone... right?

on the other hand, jihoon could always feel your burning, infuriated stares burning a hole in the back of his head. it came to the point where walking by you in the hallways felt like he was on fire.

lee jihoon was conflicted. he enjoyed being your friend (even if it felt like it should be more sometimes), but at what cost? his mind just kept going back to your friends' conversation that day.

just as jihoon was about to unlock the restroom stall, his hand freezes at the mention of your name from someone's mouth. his name as well.

"you think y/n is actually friends with that loser?"

"who?"

"the nerd who always listens to music in the back of the class!"

"ah, lee jihoon? i mean... i doubt it. they're probably hanging with him to make him feel like he belongs, you know? he has no friends so that's probably why."

"holy shit, that's so depressing."

"right?"

and when jihoon is conflicted, he did what he does best: stay silent. because yes, being your friend made his year. should he keep being your friend even if he knew you were doing it out of pity? would he go that far for his crush?

as jihoon makes his way to the music room after just finishing his lunch, he decides to just stay silent forever! confrontation is difficult... so none of that!!!

he reaches his hand out to turn the knob of the music room, but lets out a pained groan as the door flies into his face unbeknownst to you who just got too excited at his presence because now you could finally talk to him alone!

"jihoon! i knew you'd come here! let's talk," and suddenly all your angry, violent thoughts that said to be angry at lee jihoon for ignoring you for so long flew out of your head. all rational thoughts: gone. you grabbed his hand that wasn't rubbing his now red forehead and pulled him into the room.

jihoon sighs. so much for no confrontation.

when jihoon closes the door behind you both, you take a deep inhale of breath and exhale to calm your nerves. you've been thinking about this moment for ages, don't mess it up now!

you turn swiftly to face jihoon with a bitter expression on his face, making you gulp as the nerves begin crawling back.

"li-listen, whatever i did i'm sorry. i truly didn't mean to hurt you, so please, tell me what i did wrong so we can talk it out and i can apologize properly!"

for the first time since being pulled into that room by you, he looks at you to meet your eyes. how could they be so... genuine?

he looked at you in a way that made you want to sink to the floor. "well? are you gonna say anything?" you frown as he stares at you wordlessly.

"why are you friends with me?"

you blink at him in shock. "w-what?"

jihoon sighs and repeats, "why are you friends with me?"

you struggle to form the right words to say. "well... we kept running into each other and i liked talking to you so i just stuck around.” that could be worded much better, you think.

he didn’t believe you.

“you’re only friends with me because you’re vice president and it’s your job to help your peers, right?”

your jaw went slack.

“where did you get that from??”

this look was different. not mad, but hopeless. “not important. just answer me, is it true?”

“of course not! who told you that? why would you even believe that?” okay, now you were starting to get worked up because that’s such a horrid thing to assume of you! did he have that little faith in you?

his fists tighten because suddenly pin-pointing all the flaws in his friendship with you became easy.

“hey, but to add on to that, why do you baby me?”

your eyebrows knit together because you just got even more lost if possible. “baby you? since when? how? where did any of this come from, jihoon?”

“can you quit being so focused on where this is coming from? it’s coming from me, okay? it makes sense anyways, i am nothing like any of your friends. why me? why be friends with me—“

“why can’t i just be friends with you because i want to?? do all my friends need to be the same?”

he lets out a menacing scoff. “okay, so am i some charity case then? a friendship made out of pity because i can’t seem to ever speak up for myself and you always have to swoop in to save me? i can defend myself, y/n. why do you act like i’m a defenseless loser that needs to be protected and babied?”

“i have never thought about you that way! first of all, whoever told you i was friends with you because it was my job has no idea what you and i are. you’ve never given other people the time of day to listen to their stupid opinions, so why now, huh?”

because it was about you.

“second of all, you always complain about people not understanding you or mistreating you! you always let people walk all over you! i am sick of having to watch you pretend like you’re cool and unbothered at what people say about you, so forgive me if i’m standing up for you because i care. it’s not my job, i’m doing it because i’m your friend. and if you were uncomfortable about it, just tell me! set boundaries! not give me the silent treatment.”

“well i don’t want to be your friend anymore.” his words were eerily cold. he gave up. he clearly didn’t want to try for this or you anymore.

your gentle pants from your yelling fill the silent and tense atmosphere of the music room where you two first met. silent because his words were still processing in both of your heads and tense because this was probably the end of your friendship. you both couldn't meet each other's eyes.

as jihoon was gauging your troubled expression, a pool of heavy guilt filled his stomach. that sentence was not how he imagined it would go. he always thought it would be said bravely. lovingly. like in a confession. not like friends breaking up!

so you decide to give up too because what’s the point in trying when he doesn’t trust you.

“okay then. i respect that. i have nothing else to say. do you?”

he grimaces at the way your voice shakes. the way your nose scrunches unpleasantly. and his heart regrets the way your eyes shine over with tears. jihoon would never believe that he would one day be the cause of your pain and tears.

“no.” goddammit, that’s not what he wanted to say. why was he such a coward?

“okay.” your voice was just a whisper as you breeze past him, not wanting him to see you cry a second time.

when the door of the room shuts behind him, he cries. for the first time in a long time.

he can’t even remember what he was mad about. he could only remember your broken expression and your broken tone. he messed up something beautiful all because it was hard believing that someone as amazing as you would want to be his friend. and possibly like him.

six. right person, right time

22 days, 12 hours, and 16 minutes. why are you even keeping track anymore at this point? you two are not friends. period.

you weren’t even friends with him for that long! you had your other friends too anyways so why did cutting things off with him hurt so much? (i wonder why).

after not talking to jihoon, you start to realize how being his friend was such a breath of fresh air. a break from life. a good and genuine change. it was great. this was probably because how jihoon had no care for social cliques or no expectations or just no interest in things outside of grades and music!

and so for the first time in a long time, someone wanted to talk to you about something that had nothing to do with student council, clubs, school, volunteering, or community service. meeting jihoon was a quick and sharp realization that all your friends, all the people you surround yourself with, are people from the student council or simply smart-popular people! over-achievers! nerds!

maybe jihoon was right when he said you were the definition of a nerd who also happened to be popular… (which you refused to believe because how could a nerd be popular, jihoon?)

nevertheless! jihoon’s interest in music, critiquing animes, playing instruments for fun (not just in school like what), and best of all his carefree attitude, truly make all these nerds around you so bland and basic.

like finally, someone who busies themself with something, not about school or accomplishing something worthy enough to put on a college application.

and about his carefree attitude, it’s crazy how you never noticed until jihoon mentioned how uptight some of your friends were after hearing a close friend of yours, who was also secretary of the council, talk to you about something school related. all you and your friends talked about was school.

so yes, being friends with lee jihoon was beyond eye-opening and more life-changing, but it also made you view your friends differently. were they even your friends? if you weren't a part of all your extracurriculars, no, if you just weren't smart or outgoing, would they care about you at all?

this epiphany has let you see your friends for the people they are. you indeed saw this for yourself when some dumb boys began picking on him.

"seriously, i get if you don't like us. i respect that even. but failing us just because you think we're inferior to you makes you look like a fucking loser," park junghyung laughed cynically as he pulled a chair next to jihoon's desk, getting all up in his face.

if you don't see it, it doesn’t exist. jihoon has been repeating this sentence for the past five minutes because junghyung and his friends couldn't stand not being carried through group assignments for the first time in their lives.

"i didn't fail you, that's up to ms. lee."

with that, junghyung's tight-lipped smile dropped and his "patience" ran dry. he shot up from his seat and kicked it to the floor, the loud clanging sound making people gasp and begin to watch the situation unfold.

yeah, maybe removing his entire group's names from the presentation before submitting was too bold of a move. well, they should’ve done shit to help if they didn’t want a failing grade, right? after all, you always told him 'be bold and be strong! don't let stupid idiots walk over you! run over them instead!' wait, why as he even thinking about you in this situation?? damn it!

so, cue you walking toward jihoon's classroom, ready to confront some bullies and you’re only doing this because it’s the right thing to do, not that you still like him or anything (lie)! you don’t dare to hope you two might reconcile and maybe even become friends again after this because that’s so dumb (lie). and hopefully, jihoon won’t think you're babying him, you just want to clear his name! (truth).

however, seeing your crush (100% truth) lee jihoon being cornered by park junghyung who was grabbing his collar while everyone was staring and recording was not what you expected! are you seriously about to walk into a fight for your crush… (yes).

"you must think you're all that to pull such a move, huh. in reality, you're just a pathetic shit who can’t even pull bitches because they all pity you.” was he talking about you?

now that he thinks about it, the voice in the restroom that day was him. it was park junghyung.

honest to god, jihoon 100% firmly believes the best choice in this situation would be to run because he cannot fight. he guesses he can try, but unfortunately, junghyung is a fit dude. a big dude. if only he didn’t talk about you and insinuate you were a bitch.

jihoon grabs junghyung’s collar and throws him off. he’s at his limit right now.

“if you didn’t want to fail, maybe stop partying and getting drunk of your ass to get away from your fucked up home life? maybe actually use that empty shit brain of yours and do something with it? maybe then you wouldn’t have to ask your rich dad or student council friends to pull favors so you don’t get pushed down a class or kicked out of school even.” jihoon is suddenly very memorable of all the school gossip you’ve told him before.

junghyung laughs in disbelief. “you’re asking for it, you little fucker.”

well. this was it. this is when jihoon gets sucker punched.

“y-you dickhead!”

woah, was that… you??

everyone, including jihoon and an impatient junghyung turns to see you pushing through crowds, and marching your way in between junghyung and jihoon.

junghyung rolls his eyes when you grab jihoon’s hand reassuringly and glare up at him.

“come on, y/n. quit the charity act. it’s getting annoying now. move aside, yeah?”

a slap resonates through the filled classroom. gasps fill the room as even more phones go up to record the student council vice president slapping it boy park junghyung across the face.

jihoon’s eyes go wide. wide! he instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from a fuming, red junghyung.

he side-eyes you who was also very shell-shocked at your own actions.

“y/n, what the hell are you doing?” he whispers as junghyung’s group goes up to him to ask if he was okay.

“to be honest, i don’t know. just know i am not babying you. i’m doing this and have always been doing this because i care about you, now move. i’m not done.”

jihoon’s eyes soften as he caresses his thumb over the back of your hand. he doesn’t deserve you.

junghyung lets out a laugh of disbelief. “you know what, you two deserve each other. you’re both fucking insane.”

“well, you and your friends are all fucking stupid.”

yes, you knew his friends (also your friends) were in the room watching. yes, you knew you would be losing a lot of friends today if you continued talking. yes, it’s worth it if it’s for lee jihoon especially if they all think of him the same way junghyung does.

junghyung clenches his jaw before taunting, “oh really! i wonder what our friends will think about that,” he turns around to the crowd of people with arms wide, “what do you guys think about the genius and model student y/n swearing and assaulting other students? their own friend at that too!”

you scoff and roll your eyes at this boy’s sheer audacity. he was never your friend.

junghyung gets more pissed off at your reaction and says, “since when were you such an annoying bitch?”

you cross your arms across your chest impatiently. did he think he was that intimidating? “i’ll start being a bitch because it’s sickening watching you push everyone around. what? do you think i’m like everyone else?”

jihoon panics when he feels you try to push past his arm as junghyung does the same also while his friends attempt to hold him back.

jihoon laughs awkwardly, trying to calm the situation. still making sure to keep an arm between you an junghyung, he apologizes, “they’re just a bit mad at the unnecessary crowding and recording haha, please understand.”

you whip your head to glare at jihoon, “quit apologizing when you’re not in the wrong. now move.”

you move closer to junghyung staring at you with cursing eyes.

“woah junghyung, you gonna slap me back? punch me? like you do with your classmates and call it messing around?”

“man, this bitch is fucking insane!”

“i’ll show you how insane i can be if you keep taking advantage of jihoon or anyone else just because they’re nice people.” you feel jihoon turn around to face you completely, but refuse to look at him because you knew you would melt instantly. you missed him.

you hold his hand tighter before concluding, “now you’re always gonna be known as an idiot who bullies smart kids because he can’t do shit in school. i really won’t let it slide if you mess with jihoon again,” you turn to scan everyone who was in the room recording, “send that video to the principal if you want i don’t care!“

you pull jihoon away from junghyung who punches the nearest desk before letting out a frustrated yell.

“move. move!” you shove your way through the crowd as your friends, well, maybe not friends anymore after they had just seen you slap and swear at someone… but it didn’t matter you’d see them tomorrow for student council stuff anyways if you still had your position after this.

you and jihoon walk away from everyone who began to disperse, gossiping because how could model student y/n act so aggressively?

but that was the last thing on your mind because you felt like there was a lot to discuss with jihoon.

jihoon who just trails behind you, hands still entwined with yours, was zoning out thinking about what just occurred. you stop abruptly, making him walk into your back.

“s-sorry-“

you pull him into an empty classroom and shut the door behind you, letting go of his hand.

you sigh and put your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath for a moment. you had so much adrenaline running and you could even hear your heartbeat in your ears.

you still manage to slap jihoon’s hand away when he attempts to turn on the lights, “no lights right now.”

he nods, staring at your tired figure awkwardly.

jihoon scratches the back of his head, not knowing what to say. does he thank you? scold you for nearly getting beat up for him? risking your spot and position in the student council?

his thoughts clear as you begin rambling. he sighs internally hearing your panicked tone. “i know, i know! we’re not friends anymore and you didn’t want me to speak for you or to you anymore, i know. i’m sorry. i just… i care about you so so much, even if we're not friends. i never approached you after you caught me crying because i pitied you and felt it was my duty to be there for you. th-that was never the case. so please don’t be mad at me, we can go our separate ways after today. just know—“

jihoon grabs your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you. he cups the back of your head and in a hushed tone says, “it’s okay. i’m sorry. i was wrong. it was my fault. i still wanna be with you. i was just lost for a moment, i’m sorry i hurt you. you didn't deserve to be treated like that by me. i hope you can forgive me even if i don’t deserve it.”

tears brim your eyes as you nod, sniffling. you hope he understands what you were trying to say wordlessly when you wrap your arms around his waist tightly, not wanting to be apart from him again.

jihoon never knew what to say to people, especially when it came to comforting someone. but then came you. and the words flowed so easily.

seven. because i like you

your phone buzzes in your pocket, you glance down cautiously, avoiding getting caught by your teacher. back then you would have never check your phone for anyone else, but you had started to for jihoon. you blame him for being a bad influence on you, but he said you were being a bad influence on yourself.

hoon: i’m in the music room rn. can we talk?

you: yes, please. i’ll be there in ten after my council meeting

you sigh. this felt like deja vu. hopefully, it wouldn’t end up too much like last time you both were in here though.

you turn the knob and pull the door open, making eye contact with a lee jihoon who was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall.

he couldn’t even say a word as you let go of the door, closing it in your face. you were not as mentally prepared as you thought you were.

moments later, the door swings back open and you speed walk over to him, plopping down on the floor in front of him.

“sorry. i just needed a moment,” you mutter, looking down at your shoes.

he chuckles at your cute antics, “that’s okay.”

jihoon then pulls out a wrapped triangle gimbap in one hand and a yakult in the other, hands both outstretched to you.

you blink owlishly at the two snacks in his pretty hands as he sighs with a slight smile, “it’s for you. i know you didn’t get to buy lunch because your student council meeting just ended.”

when you still didn’t move after his explanation, jihoon just places it down in front of your legs.

“a-ah! thank you, jihoon! you didn’t have to…” you clear your throat, realizing how affected you sounded by his actions.

“i wanted to,” jihoon replies nonchalantly, taking off his jacket at the same time.

you peel back the wrapper of the gimbap with a throbbing heart and smile, also trying to change the subject before you combust, “is it hot in here?”

without a response, jihoon drapes his jacket over your legs, which were also sitting uncomfortably because of your skirt.

you look up at jihoon looking off to the side with timid eyes, “sorry, i shouldn’t have sat on the ground. you can use my jacket for now.”

you punch his shoulder with a giggle, thanking him as he groans.

“since when were you such a gentleman, gosh jihoon.”

he rolls his eyes in a joking manner, “since always, you just never notice.”

“sure sure. anyways, what…. did you want to talk about?”

the light and comfortable atmosphere and banter between the two of you just now had made you completely forget this was the first time you talked to jihoon after the junghyung incident. though it was only two days ago, you were busy talking to the principal and dealing with the whole situation, which left you no time until now to talk to him. which still wasn’t even enough time!

“oh yeah,” jihoon looks up from his lap to make eye contact with you, suddenly in a serious mood, “i just wanted to see how you were. did you get in trouble?”

“mm, yes and no? like principal han was pretty mad, but all those years of sucking up to her did me good because she said she still thinks i’m a good student, i just handled the situation wrong,” you say while trying to peel off the lid of the yakult.

jihoon notices, taking the drink from your hands and poking a straw through it for you…….

was he hiding the straw from you just so he could do that….cheeky idiot. anyways!

“continue?” jihoon inquires softly, handing the drink back to you.

“t-thanks. uhh, i have to make a formal apology to several classes tomorrow morning! i think just the classes in our hallway because those were the ones that gathered to watch us the most, which was so rude by the way?? why would they just stare and record? couldn’t someone get a teacher? ugh, but i also have to do a buuunch of community service this weekend with everyone who hates me now after the whole thing.”

jihoon frowns. he forgot that you defending him that day ended up making your friends distance themselves from you. he can’t help but feel at blame. at fault. did you even have friends anymore?

your eyebrows furrow when jihoon’s expression began to get cloudy and disturbed all of a sudden.

“jihoon? what’s up?”

“i’m sorry,” he replies almost instantly, making you blink in shock.

“i’m sorry that helping me that day made you get on bad terms with everyone. god, they’re your friends and fellow members… you’ll have to see them everyday a-and i made them all turn on you. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything to junghyung that day. i shouldn’t have let you talk to him. i shouldn’t have—“

you lean forward on your hands, landing a peck on jihoon’s cheek, successfully shutting him up from his intrusive thoughts.

“geez, jihoon… i thought you said you have trouble expressing your feelings! why are you only expressing the negative ones to me??”

jihoon’s cheeks grow and feel fiery as his hand goes up to his cheek, fingers ghosting over where your lips were just a moment ago. the feeling was still there.

not noticing his blushing state, you continue ranting, “even if i knew the outcome of that fight, i still would do it all again in a heartbeat. a heartbeat! i did it because i like you, okay? i wanted to. it’s not your fault, so why would you apologize?”

jihoon’s eyes shoot up to meet yours. “you like me?”

now it was your turn to become shy. did you really say that…?

your heartbeat pounds against your rib age, not knowing what to say. “do you?”

“yes. and i have for a while.”

you nod, managing to calm your heart. you suddenly find your gimbap very interesting now. “good. we’re on the same terms then.” but then you thought about how jihoon remembered you had meetings on wednesdays and never got the chance to eat lunch.

your heartbeat goes wild again. (gosh, him and his acts of service!!!)

jihoon shakes his head with a quiet laugh at your response, “i guess we are.”

sensing how you seemed very overwhelmed with the unexpected confession, which was not how he imagined you would react if he ever confessed (not that he imagined it or anything…..), he decided maybe making another move or establishing anymore between you two would be for another day. for now, he likes you and you like him. that’s enough for the both of you to be on cloud nine.

eight. closest to the heart

today was the day. lee jihoon will be giving you his nametag today because even though you kissed him that day, nothing has been established since you two refuse to talk about it! although you both can tell the other has some sort of interest or feelings for the other, that was all. nothing more, which was enough for a few days. then jihoon got sick of it and wanted to officially be yours.

hoon: music room after school?

you: yes but buy a cola for me this time too please

hoon: of course :)

you: last time you forgot

hoon: no i ran out of money and offered you mine anyways

you: you’re a bad liar

hoon: i’m sorry

you walk into the music room with a bright smile. any bad memories of this room were quickly replaced with fun, heart-aching memories of him. memories of spending all of lunch eating in here, gossiping away at your now ex-friends. memories of watching him in amazement as he composes a beautiful melody with the several instruments in this room just with the talent of his mind. memories of your feelings only growing more and stronger for him.

waiting for jihoon to arrive, you walk around the room, smiling at all the instruments jihoon has played for you. he was so different from you in such a good way. you who only took up extracurriculars for the sake of having something to put on a college application versus jihoon who did non-academic activities just because he genuinely found peace and joy in them. he was so amazing in your eyes. you wish he could see himself the way you saw him.

while scanning around the room, your eyes land on a piece of paper with writing on a table. you raise an eyebrow. barely anyone else comes here and jihoon always comes here with you? or so you thought?

you walk towards the paper, picking it up to read it. instantly, you recognized it to be jihoon’s writing. you have never met a boy with such nice handwriting before until him.

he had made a short bullet point list.

don’t stutter. look them in the eyes. don’t ramble and be straight to the point. be honest. finally, give them the—

a high-pitched yell interrupts your reading. “Y/N!!”

you yelp as jihoon comes speeding at you, swiping the paper off your hands and into his pocket.

he pants, a hand gripping the table as you look at him bewildered.

“jihoon, what the heck?”

“s-sorry, just boy stuff, you know?”

you stare at him with a blank expression, not believing his lie for a moment. “no, i don’t know.”

jihoon laughs awkwardly with gritted teeth, desperate to move on to another topic.

“oh! i have something to tell you! that’s why i asked you to come here today.”

you nod, gesturing for him to continue.

he clears his throat, fixes his posture, and takes a breath.

“y/n. i already told you this, but i want to tell you again. i like you. i’ve liked you since the early days of our friendship when you kept following me around and i tried to make you leave me alone by constantly saying that you talk too much. that was a lie. well, you do ramble, but i didn’t mind because i do too. i just didn’t know how to deal with such a pretty person wanting to talk to me every day.”

he smiles unconsciously because even the thought of you made him smile. just the thought of you alone.

“i began to like you more when you would come to the music room with me during lunch even when you said your friends wouldn’t stop complaining about it. i liked you more when you texted me good morning and goodnight, when you asked me if i ate, when you wanted to listen to my music, and when you were just you. i don’t think i’ve ever shown my music to someone before, but you’re a special person to me. you will always be a special person to me. and… i hope to be a special person to you as well…”

with a shaky hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his nametag. jihoon grabs your hand and places it in your palm, closing your hand around it.

your confused expression sends jihoon into a whirlwind of panic.

“i like you too, jihoon. you’ve always been a special person to me, though.” jihoon falters when you undo the pin of his name tag and attempt to pin it back on his uniform.

“are you rejecting me?”

the absolute seriousness but also slight wavering of his voice makes you nearly drop the name tag.

“what?” you shriek, “of course not! i thought we were making this official!”

jihoon thinks, trying to connect the dots together... nothing’s connecting.

“we are. and i wanna be your boyfriend…but why are you giving me back my name tag?”

you glance down at the his name tag in your hands puzzled.

“i thought you wanted me to pin it back for you. as in like ‘i like you so much here’s the honor of letting you pin my name tag on me,’” when you take in the horrified look on your now boyfriend’s face, you laugh awkwardly, “isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

“no! oh my gosh, i would never confess to you in such a douchey way. ever. i just…” his words trail off when he realizes maybe you didn’t know what giving a name tag to someone meant. that never occurred as a possible situation in his head. and trust when i say he thought he mapped all the possible situations that would result from him confessing.

“wait, don’t you know what giving you my name tag means?”

you blink twice.

jihoon lets out a sigh of relief and then laughs at your adorable, lost state.

he collects himself, but one look at you makes him melt and throw his arms around you in a hug.

your breath halts when jihoon practically puts all his weight on you, snuggling his head into your neck.

his soft voice makes your body shiver.

“there’s basically this … tradition where a boy gives his name tag to his crush as a way to confess his love because name tags sit close to the heart.”

the wheels in your head begin turning again.

“so … in way, i’m giving you my heart.”

when you response with a sniffle, jihoon pulls back from the hug immediately.

“are you crying??” he looks at you with wide eyes, cradling your head.

you pout, “no, but i might. that’s so cute, jihoon. i love it so much.”

your hand grasps his name tag tighter. he just gave you his heart.

you pull his hand, closing the distance between you two once again.

you lean your head on his shoulder, whispering out five words so quiet so only he could hear, “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” he responds almost immediately.

you hold in a giggle when you feel his pounding heart as he holds back a quip when he also hears your heart beating erratically in the silence and comfort of the music room.

nine. a love that lasts

“highschool love never lasts.” okay tell that to you and jihoon then.

“are you… crying??”

when those words slip from jihoon’s mouth, a sob escapes your throat.

you hid your face with your sleeve, tears falling nonstop and crying, “you wrote a song for me!”

jihoon gawks at you because he was baffled. were these good tears? bad tears? shocked tears? angry tears??? he should be good at reading your emotions by now! he’s been dating you for seven years now. eight years as of today because it was your relationship’s anniversary! and he's written you several songs before??

he stumbles out of his chair to you as you continue to cry (sob).

“y/n, what-what’s wrong? whatever i did, i’m sorry. it's my fault,” he sits beside you on the couch of this recording studio, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“no, you did nothing wrong at all,” you sniffle, “i just love the song so much. i love you so much.”

jihoon bites his lip, holding back a chuckle. he turns your face toward him with both of his hands, cupping your face so he could wipe your falling tears away with his thumbs.

his hands pause as he squeezes your cheeks. “i love you too. i’m glad you like the song so much. happy 8th anniversary, y/n. thank you for loving me all these years even though i was so difficult and still am.”

you close your eyes, more cries erupting as jihoon dares to laugh at you and pulls you in for a warm, but a crushing hug.

you sometimes wonder how you would’ve survived high school without jihoon. then and now, he has been someone who helped you breathe when things began to get overwhelming. he was your anchor. for jihoon, he was speeding through life, wanting to grow up as soon as possible. that was until he fell in love with you. you made him feel want to cherish his days and live happily. his life had meaning again. his days had the motivation to do more. you brought out the best in him.

he now begins to wonder how you’ll react when he pulls out the rings and asks the biggest question of his and your lives. however, he has a feeling it’ll be a good cry as well.

#woozi scenarios #woozi fic #woozi x reader #woozi x you #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon fluff #woozi fluff #woozi oneshot #woozi imagines #lee jihoon #woozi #seventeen oneshot #seventeen fluff #lee jihoon x you #woozi x y/n #woozi fanfic #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #jihoon x reader #svt woozi imagine #seventeen woozi #svt woozi #woozi imagine #woozi oneshots #woozi scenario #seventeen oneshots #seventeen scenarios #svt fluff #svt imagine

[total-drama-takes-the-squeakquel]

Revenge of the island was doomed from the start when the first character they introduced was jo. Like what the fuckkk at first I was like. Is that human like wtf 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 then girls first line is “stay out of my way if you value your kiwis” like girl you sound like 🤓🤓🤓 yk what I mean. Like bro Scott’s just chilling what did he do to you fuckface. They should’ve let Anne Maria hair spray jo to death of something but wtffff jo u r not the main character 😭😭😭😭 then let’s talk about this bitchs behavior is the goddamn intro. Girls punching a punching bag in the middle of the woods (whime did you get that). Cameron is almost killed and blasted off into space and jo catches him and does one good thing for humanity then immediately after just tosses him onto the ground  to go chase after brick???? WTF we get it ho ur not like othim girls and u wanna be one of the boys sooo badly 😭😭😭 stfu what did brick even do to you. His first words to u were ma’am because he’s a fucking simp and rides him dick 24/7 like why be so mean to himmm. Goofy ass. Then he’s on the beach racing with brick and almost driving him into cardiac arrest like bro don’t kill him. Ik ur heartless and all but girllll no one asked 🥴🥴🥴 brick should’ve beaten the shit out of him. Out of my way triathlete coming thru 😈😈😈😈😈🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓 omg I’m so scared 😱😱😱😱😱 go away. Literally no one asked girl. he almost drowns Zoey and Staci just to be number one like broooo ur actually done this time . Then launches himself off Sam to do a flip like girl u are not the main character. I’d rathim go thru 60 episodes of zoke and commando Zoey than watch jo every again. S4 was literally so bad and I blame it all on him. Then he’s pissed at dawn for getting to shore quicker BABE TAKE A CHILLPILL GODDAMNN….. wish dawn could’ve owned him and exposed him or smth idk. Make him feel ashamed. No wonder lightning thought u were a man like bro Shut up guys are annoying and so are you 😭😭😭😭 so I consider him just as bad as one. Lightning should’ve kept misgendering him I found it funny. “Sorry you had to lose to a girl 🤓🤓🤓🤓” wow you’re so fucking different!!! Do you want a medal too. Lightning should’ve beat his ass on the spot and I wish Chris ran him over with his little go cart. Sooo glad Scott found the invincibility statue because if jo didn’t get eliminated ep10 I would’ve straight up killed myself fr 😭😭 like no joke I’d hang myself from the ceiling. he’s always so grumpy too wtfffff. he should’ve got mutated instead of Dakota I’m not even kidding. Calling squirrels stupid is also lowkey kindaaaaa 😐😐 look at yourself Joey 😭😭 you’re not any hotter. he looks like one of those inbred lion/tiger hybrids you know what I mean. That gamer indent isn’t cute eithim….. 😬😬😬😬 thought you were an athlete. That’s embarrassing!!! Now ur skull is permanently mutated that’s so cringe. Then he laughs at lightning getting hit in the head and then gets trampled by a trampoline LMAO glad that bitch got him karma. Brick did nothing to help him in that moment and he’s so real for that tbh. Should’ve kicked dirt onto his head but whatevvvssss 😐😐😐😐. “All right let’s do this 🤪🤪🤪” and then falls into the water LMAOOOOOOO failure!!!!! Imagine 😭😭 like girl I thought you were a pro athlete thime’s no way ur real. Notice he’s smiling at Anne Maria getting hurt when hitting the bottom of the totem pole Everytime. That’s the same state Jeffrey Dahmer gave his victims before he killed them and ate them. he’s a psychopath I’m not even kidding. Then he kicks the trampoline out from under AM like UMMMM???? At least try to help him jfc. Toxic rats was the best team bc they don’t have jo. “Good grief 😐😐😐” corny ahhh line. Chester should’ve beaten the shit out of him too tbh 😭😭😭😭 I wish so hard that he died when he fell down that wayerfillll like aughhhshshsgwuwjwjjjebns.

If the maggots lost they def would’ve voted out Jo or smth but nooo he has plot armor ong 😭😭😭😭😭 I’d rathim listen to a podcast made by Staci than listen to Jo’s corny ass nicknames. Then he has to go how’d they get in front of us!!!! Like MAYBE… this is a wild suggestion too. Maybe you’re…. A SHIT TEAM LEADER 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱 crazy I know. Brick should’ve beat him ass in that thumb wrestle but jo just tries killing him like jfc. Instead of a thumb wrestling contest they could’ve done an idk. Ummm like whoever can hit the othim upside the head with the a rock the hardest idk. And brick could’ve won and DESTROYED that ho. I’m not good at making suggestions. And everyone coming at me in the replies how’s it feel to be wronggggg 😁😁😁😁 y’all need to stop dickriding jo asap idk. he’s not that good. he let him team to crashing into that cabin like bro stop trying to kill everyone lmao. Jo kinda dresses like those homelsss ppl u see on the side of the highway with those goofy “if you love god donate to me!!!” signs. Idk girl just get a new wardrobe or smth. Brick would help you but since you’re such a shithead he’s not helping u lmao cope and seethe 😙😙😙😙 he probably smells like axe deodorant too lmao imagine. 

Erm yeahhh I’m done. Idk what to call my anon. Jater because I am a jo hater!!! Maybe I’ll rant about her in episode 2 because he rlly got on my nerves that episode but he also gets on my nerves every episode sooooo 😒😒😒😒 bye xoxo. You’re mad because you know I’m right 😘😘😘😘

-

#long post #tw sui ideation #jater #jater are you typing these out gendering jo correctly and then replacing every instance of female pronouns w he/him/his #because you called Anne Maria a him and also put thime instead of there?? #total drama

[frostytherobot]

some things about toons in who censored roger rabbit? (the book):

toons can make copies of themselves that last from 1 hour up to 48 hours before falling apart and manifest speech bubbles in which the words can burn into a surface if they so pleased. from the book alone i’m unsure if the toons who speak with word bubbles actually talk or if the words is all that comes out of them. i think it’s the latter

toons are treated like marginalized people. there’s a lot of toon-centered racism going on in the book. and actual racism too. jfc

there is such a thing as toon mythology. a lot of it has to do with fairy tales and magical figures.

there is a genie that only grants wishes for toons. the genie does not answer to the copies of the toons and only the originals can make the wish.

toons can wish to be humans but after awhile the wish will wear off and they will become toons again.

toons cannot mate with humans for some reason (even though i see self shippers doing this all the time). if a toon becomes human they can have human children with other humans.

THERE IS STILL NO EXPLANATION ON HOW TOONS COME INTO BEING. they just exist. there is history of them existing as far back as persia and even further into the past. this shit is baffling

some toons age and some don’t. no explanation for why this is either. at one point baby herman says he is 36 years old and still looks like a baby and jessica says she was 18 and looked it when she started doing porno comics which implies she had to wait til she was of legal age to do them.

um. the book is kind of insane

[staticl0ve]

HIIIIII STATIC I LOVE YOU SM!!!!!! FOR ASK THINGy THING: 3, 9, 16,18 AND a question I’ve got separate.

Whether for a one-shot or a multi chapter fic, what story of yours (if all were possible) would you like a sequel for? And why?

I LOVE YOU!!! ♥️🧡💛💚💙💜

BABY GIRL. I love you. You’re amazing. You’re sunshine on a light breezy day: the warmth, the necessary vitamin d it provides, and the light the flowers all follow.

3) What fic of yours do you think is underrated?

If we’re talking hits…maybe Sunflower. I wrote it in less than 48 hours and it’s fairly short but I was inspired to write something for @dattebae before she started TMG. If anything: I wish I had spent more time building up the angst eheh.

For actual underrated cause I lowkey loved the premise: Baby, it’s Cold Outside. Connor as Vision and the reader as a Scarlet Witch type seemed like such a fun AU since there aren’t too many superhero AUs. I tend to write AUs since I get so tired of the cop coworker dynamic and there’s only so much sad homicide/drug cases I wanna explore in writing. As for this story: I really liked making Connor feel like Vision by channeling the awkward android from when canon when he meets Hank at the bar and finds him at the precinct.

9) Do you visualize scenes in your head before you write them? (Can you picture the setting, character body language etc)

Oh yeah! For sure. I’m a super visual person and it’s more I struggle with finding different ways to build a scene and I’ve been trying to picture the words as the lens of a camera. Like describing rain: how else can I say it’s raining? Is it water dripping down rooftops, puddles, cold piercing water droplets on skin or the sound of it? Things like car rides from The Pig and the Fox.

Streetlights passed by, distant orbs of gold stretching and fading across his cheekbones like falling stars over freckled constellations.

At this point I’m running out of ideas on how to describe lights on faces LMAO. I can see it in my head but it’s so different trying to find a way to say it that has some impact in the story. The chapter’s titled ‘Gravity’ there was a little paragraph about rocks trapped in orbit and how gravitational pulls would make it fall to Earth so I thought it was kinda nice to tie all these space themes together. (Also so cliche to call his freckles constellations but it’s also so fun.)

16) Do you have a method for getting characters to sound/feel in character?

I can always hear Sixty’s voice and that’s because it’s lowkey half of the shit I’d say that and it’s so easy to write a fumbling, idiot that’s funny.

Connor: when I first started writing, I’d listen to the movie cuts of the game cause I had no idea how to write him. Now: I try to hear his voice when I write a line and edit it to death if it doesn’t sound quite like him. He swears, he does use abbreviations but there is a formality to how he talks and it’s so hard balancing that.

Nines. Well. For the human AU: I pictured Henry Cavill’s characters LOL. Someone standoffish, cold, occasionally lets out a one liner that makes one do a double take and hot as hell. For android Nines: I try to make him arrogant and stubborn (in his mind: he’s always right). I know there’s fanon where he’s just this awkward, stiff, unfunny wall of a man and that’s definitely a valid approach but I find him more charming to have him experience: hot, perfect, white boy who’s never struggled a day in his life finally goes through the emotional wringer.

18) What's the most obscure thing you've researched for a fic?

For The Boy Next Door, or Nines’ story: You Drive Me Crazy, I had to look how what I thought would be frats for Harvard and learned they’re too fancy for that lmao! They have “finals clubs” and I actually looked into which one I thought Nines and Luther would join by reading on the list of the top most ones and Jfc this was all for TWO PARAGRAPHS of setup lmao. I felt so silly doing it but it made me happy to have that in there.

If you were curious: I picked Spee Club cause it seemed the most chill. But if I’m being honest: I judged them by the alumni LMAO. This one had the Kennedy’s and I figured: yeah that sounds like a good fit. But mostly the mascot is a bear and I felt in my heart that Luther would just be so amused by it.

21. Whether for a one-shot or a multi chapter fic, what story of yours (if all were possible would you like a sequel for? And why?

Dancing with the Devil. This one because I always wished I expanded more on the weird human only secret society the baddie made. I dunno if it’d be a sequel, but I wish I had written more for the story. The first chapter is SOOO short but it was the second fic I’d ever written and at the time 1kish words was enough for a chapter. I’d love to have lengthened the playful “enemies” to lovers so that there would have been more room for tension.

So not quite a sequel (although I do have a very sad/angsty one that I never wrote…) but a wish to rewrite it one day or maybe do a spin off.

#dbh fanfic #my asks #thank you darling #this was such a pleasure to write #MUCH LOVE #oxoxoxoxo

[dreamwritesimagines]

the way i SQUEAKED when i saw the 3 Years Later and then followed by Chaos AND THEN EDMUND AAAHH!!! but “You were beginning to understand your mother.” THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO MUCH ALSKALSK Cassie is up there cackling saying ‘what goes around comes around’ LMAO

“Oh we lost him!” // “We didn’t lose him darling, he’s somewhere in the house. We just don’t know where yet.” this is like, the whole summary of their dynamic honestly lksalksalks Cherie has the dramatics, Anthony has the logic, but both of them aren’t technically wrong LMAO

AAAH SHE’S PREGNANT !!!!! ....for a week roughly. Anthony’s reaction had me thinking she’s like, 7 months in with a big round belly jfc lksalsklakslkas “Anthony was already acting as if you were about to give birth at any time.” YEAH EXACTLY LOL we love a protective mans. 

“small hurricane” that’s so adorable and so frickin accurate i mean “surrounded by the knocked over inkpot and multiple papers” dear lord this child ksksksksks

“somehow throwing both English and French words together and Anthony pressed his lips to his hair, rocking him in his arms.” MY HEART IS BURSTING AH THIS IS SO CUTE

“Y/N, are you sure you should be carrying—” at this rate, Anthony is about hire a tiny pony and a carriage for Cherie to ride as she goes around inside the house laksalks

“It’ll take them a while to draw a bath.” i mean, i honestly didn’t know why i was expecting him to calm down a lil after being a father but clearly not alskalsk if anything, he got even worse LMAO bc they have to be find time for it now that Edmund is around and they can’t do it as much anymore so i’m sure Anthony Impatient™️ Bridgerton is going to make those times count as much as he can alksalsla

OLLIE AND ADA. omg there’s so many kids alsalkslakslklks. Edmund the little devil. honestly not surprised i mean have u met his parents? LMAO but seriously, all this kid talk is so funny and so cute. but gosh THEY SEEM SO GROWN UP LIKE ELIAS CECE EVERYONE. idk why i’m acting like they’re graying already it’s only been 3 years BUT STILL

“Especially with the cultural difference, the baby will be British and Edmund is French.” this had me so frickin confused for sec like what is she on about??? laksalsla “We made him in France, in Paris! And we made this one in London. There’s got to be some cultural difference Anthony, that’s just how it works.” nope. not how it works. LMAO. for all u know, Edmund got made on the journey there, whether the inn or the carriage soooooooo nationality unclear LKASLAKS

“I love you, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“And I love you, Viscount Bridgerton,”

gosh, this was such a sweet epilogue. the Cherie *wink wink* on top of the cake should i say alakslaks. but like i said, absolutely so so happy to have gotten on this journey with u dee! this is so bittersweet bc i’m going to miss it but hey, it was a wild but very enjoyable ride one that i will forever cherish and remember so that counts as something <3 it makes me so happy that my long ass essays made your day alksalks. you’re amazing and you should be proud of yourself for this!!! i know i am!! and honestly, thank you for sharing this with us! wishing u the best for your other projects and sending you love always! i’m prolly going to pop by and read all the HCs but until next time! see ya <3

– TM Anon™️

Omg omg TM ANON DARLING HIIII! ❤🥰😍

Lollll oh yeah, Edmund is even more chaotic than Cherie, and that’s saying something 😂 Cassie would be laughing so hard at this😂

this is like, the whole summary of their dynamic honestly lksalksalks Cherie has the dramatics, Anthony has the logic, but both of them aren’t technically wrong LMAO YES! Exactly! 😂 They both have their point, Cherie just has to be dramatic about it 😂

Oh Anthony will be like that throughout the pregnancy, and I think he was like that when she was pregnant with Edmund as well! 😂 The moment he found out he kept acting like she was due at any time meanwhile Cherie wasn’t even showing yetl 😂

Small hurricaneeeee!

Dad!Anthony is so soft with Edmundddd! ❤

at this rate, Anthony is about hire a tiny pony and a carriage for Cherie to ride as she goes around inside the house laksalks I AM DYING AT THIS😂 Can you imagine if he came up with a suggestion like this?! 😂 He’d even go like “Edmund would love a pony too!”

i mean, i honestly didn’t know why i was expecting him to calm down a lil after being a father but clearly not alskalsk if anything, he got even worse LMAO bc they have to be find time for it now that Edmund is around and they can’t do it as much anymore This is so trueeee! Like, I think Cherie was at first a bit worried whether it would change everything, because she really really enjoys ehm…as she would say, ”marital bliss” with him😂 But like, it just means they sneak around more, that’s the only thing that changed 😂

Lolll this is hilarious 😂😂 I think at least Elias is a bit calmer, especially after twins, he had to 😂 But their lives changed in those three years awww❤

for all u know, Edmund got made on the journey there, whether the inn or the carriage soooooooo nationality unclear LKASLAKS LOLLLL this is such a good point there 😂 I think Cherie will totally insist Edmund is French because she is totally convinced they made him there but I doubt they were just standing still in the carriage or the inn tbh 😈 So who knows? 😂

the Cherie *wink wink* on top of the cake I AM GIGGLING AT THIS!😂

Darling omg I really can’t thank you enough for being a part of this journey and giving me your wonderful support and analyses and comments, I always got so excited after every chapter to read your thoughts and analysis! ❤ And until the next week I always re-read them and they made me incredibly happy and I hope you know just how amazing you are and how your feedback is such an important encouragement and inspiration for the whole story and also how much you and your wonderful support mean to me❤❤

Omg I’m getting emotional so I will just finish it with this; I love you so much! ❤❤THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU❤

[bootlickerhawks]

Thoughts on HNK 😈

Me, immediately after finishing chapter 97:

I had a general idea where the story was headed because of fanart I've come across, but even after you warned me nothing could have prepared me for the torrent of emotions I would feel ;w;

Apologies but this is going to be discombobulated af (my thoughts are all over the place >_<) and LONG (1.1k words) but that's a given with a story like HNK.

Reading this, especially in the latter half, is akin to watching a rollercoaster wildly veer off the rails only to crash in a crowd of innocent people…. And then it keeps going and keeps running over people in its path. the people, in this scenario, are my emotions :”)

THE CHARACTERS

Ship of Theseus and Phos > Phos’ development throughout the story makes us doubt if this is even the same character anymore. We see the first signs of it after Phos lost their legs and forgot about their promise to Cinnabar, and again after Antrac died, and then it becomes much more obvious when Lapis’ head is installed. This comes to a head when Phos can’t remember their promise after Cinnabar thanks them and when they can’t even recognize their past self on their way to Adamant’s desk. What makes the tragedy of Phos’ character work so well is that they do accomplish what they originally set out to do: Cinnabar’s poison is gone and they’re no longer isolated, Antarc is resurrected and the Gems are finally living in peace (as Lunarians*, more on that in the ART section). But Phos can’t even appreciate what they’ve accomplished because they a) don’t remember and b) CAN’T FUCKING SEE IT BECAUSE THEY’VE BEEN SENTENCED TO BE ISOLATED FOR 10 000 YEARS (jfc talk abt a fate worse than death)  

Overall I really adore Phos! The way they metamorphosize throughout the story is fascinating to watch. I loooooove the buildup of Phos’ suspicions towards Adamant and their downfall feels organic. This is a corruption arc Done Right! They’re truly one of the most compelling protagonists I’ve seen in a long time.

I kinda wish Dia and Bort’s conflict had more focus. Dia building up an image of Bort in their mind, finally gathering the courage to confront them only for Bort to pull the rug under their feet because they changed so drastically is great. I wish we’d seen more of it but I am satisfied with what we got.  Side note 1: I love character’s like Dia that are really cheerful on the outside but hide “nasty” emotions like envy and resentment only for those emotions to boil over. *chef’s kiss* I eat that shit up!  Side note 2: Bort’s character development is hilarious (and not to bring a dead meme back to life but it might be a Jojo reference? Strong stoic character grows up and becomes a marine biologist. Coincidence? I think not!)

Speaking of character conflict! I find it disappointing that most of the closure happened off-screen. Especially Welegato/Cairngorm and Ghost, the last time they interacted Ghost was breaking Cairngorm to prevent them from becoming independent. You would think that would create some uh “tension” to put it lightly. Rutile and Padparadscha (yes I had to look at the wiki to write that correctly) seemingly have a lot of unresolved issues, which makes sense given how fucked their relationship was, but I doubt we’ll get to see them addressed since the manga is ending soon (I think? That’s what I heard? The story does seem to be headed towards its climax).  On the flip side I understand why the author didn’t do it cuz it would have slowed the pacing down.

Cinnabar is my fav so I was really disappointed when they faded to the background, but since this story is mainly from Phos’ POV it makes sense that Cinnabar would take a step back once Phos starts avoiding them. This also explains why Dia and Bort’s conflict rarely has any focus because Phos doesn’t care about it (unless it’s to exploit it).  I do have hope that Cinnabar is going to play a big role in the climax. My theory is that they’ll stay behind with Phos after Phos prays everyone else away since they understand the pain of isolation (same reason they took Sensei’s side) but we’ll see. Everything depends on how Phos reacts (and we all know how notoriously unpredictable they are). 

I feel conflicted about Cairngorm/Welegato. Cairngorm is my other fav and they were one of the most interesting characters and had a fun dynamic with Phos but after the Moon arc they kinda became flat :(  I’ve said this before but there is a tragic irony that Cairn’s attempt to emancipate themselves ended up with them becoming dependent on someone else. I am glad that Cairn is happy and that Achmea hasn’t taken advantage of the obvious power imbalance between them (yet) but I had higher hopes for Cairn. Disappointment aside, I will say that I really enjoyed the scene where Cairn directly confronted Phos on the way that they treat people and correctly foreshadowed Phos’ fate : isolation.

Achmea is a character that I have a hard time pinpointing my feelings on… I think I like him?  I'm glad he doesn’t fall into the annoying “Everything went according to keikaku MUAHAHA” trope. He took advantage of Phos’ nature instead of actively grooming them into “becoming human”, I know it’s a very fine line but it’s a line nonetheless and I appreciate him for it. My tolerance for badly executed “control” characters is very low *glares at seraph of the end* 

Euclase is a character I didn’t really care about til chapter 96. I respected them and Jade for being the first to figure out what Phos was up to when they came back from the Moon, but other than that I didn’t care about them much. But chapter 96 changed that! Thank you Euclase for being the voice of reason!!! ​​🙌 Leaving someone isolated for 10 000 years is fucked up! Thank god someone pointed it out! ​​🙌 

And that’s it for the character section! Those are all the characters I have strong opinions on! (I didn’t include Adamant because I need to reread hnk before I can form a definitive opinion 🤔)

THE ART

The first thing that stands out in HNK is the art. Now, if I were more verbose I could comment on page composition and the author’s use of light and shadow, but I’m not so I’ll just say this: the art in HNK tickles the part of my brain that really enjoys art :D 

I love the character designs and the art, especially the body horror (shattered!Phos is ✨Peak Character Design✨). 

My one complaint(?) is that once the Gems became Lunarians I had a hard time distinguishing/recognizing them. But I’m thinking that might be intentional as a way for the author to comment on cultural assimilation? And given that the Lunarians are the same people that casually brought up genociding the poor fish people... I think it's intentional 🤔

The Buddhist imagery is beautiful. The first time the lunarians appeared I had to pause to appreciate what I was looking at. Sadly a lot of the symbolism goes over my head because I’m not well versed in Buddhist mythology, like Enma being the god of the underworld in Buddhism (I only know that thanks to a comment I saw under the chapter)   

My final verdict is that my brain chemicals have definitely been altered after reading HNK. Even if the author doesn't nail the ending the journey so far has been unforgettable, and I suspect that HNK and Phos are going to be living rent free in my brain for many years to come

#asks #hnk #hnk spoilers #god i hope this is at least readable #and that tumblr doesn't fuk up the format #i am not joking when i say that this is discombobulated #my teachers at uni would be crying tears of blood if they saw how badly organized this ''essay'' is

[minimoefoe]

Thirteen Era Rewatch: Spyfall Pt2

I'm re-watching Thirteen's era in lead up to the Centenary and since this is likely going to be my last full re-watch for a while I thought I'd do a post on each ep where I just go over all the things I love, hate or just have some general thoughts on.

The way both 13 and Yaz’s way of not freaking out in the Kasaavin dimension is to talk to themselves and like, take their roles, Yaz as a police officer and 13 as the leader among the fam

This whole plane crashing scene is great but Graham is my absolute fave

The Master being so sure that the Doctor and the fam wouldn’t survive when his plans against the Doctor historically fail almost every time…

That’s what the Doctor would do !!

I love the kneel scene. Love how 13 clearly thinks it’s ridiculous, love how the Master reacts to her saying his name, love how he ends up getting down on her level anyway, love how it ends with 13 winning

Thirteen just not really knowing how to react meanwhile Ada is like ugh this guy

Love this scene tbh. Some banter, getting to see how being with the Doctor has changed how they think, them questioning how much they know her.

That scene does make me wish they included moments in S11 where they were trying to get info out of 13 and she fobbed them off bc it feels like they’re saying they’ve done that but we haven’t actually seen them do it. Not the end of the world but meh

Also Yaz being depressed as fuck about the Doctor being gone. You’ve got a big storm coming love

What’s the point in Barton’s mum. I feel like they made him weirdly cruel idk. Barton doesn’t really do much for me tbh

When I first saw this scene in a trailer, for so long I thought they were in a wall, not in the floor

This versus Twelve literally wanting to die at the end of his era. She’s come a long way.. and it’s all gonna get shattered by the end of this ep but it’s FINE

I’ve always loved this parallel

Outside of the fact That scene is ridiculous, 13 being like ‘Masquerading as a German solider is low even for him” but then going on to do that perception filter thing is like…. Yeah and That is low for you lmao. I also don’t even think it’s that low for him tbh. Like he’s not human and probably couldn’t give a flying fuck about our wars and politics, so why would he care about being a German solider for a day if it meant his plan would work.

Graham and his dancing laser shoes have never been my fave but I kinda like it now idk. It’s dumb but it’s kinda funny

Love the contact stuff it’s so cool. Shoutout to Chib for being into Classic fr

I feel like Chib chooses his words so specifically sometimes like jfc

They’re actually insane I love them

Making them think he was a doubtless agent was enough. There was no need to mess with the perception filter. Like even if he was white and the perception filter was gonna show his real white face, it’s still just a pointless thing to do. Which makes me think they put it in there specifically bc the Master isn’t white. Bc what would be the reason to do it otherwise. I assume he wouldn’t even have been wearing a filter if he was white. It’s just a bad look all round. The fact he isn’t white and they’d now be punishing him not only for being a double agent but for his skin colour is fucked. The writers really didn’t think that through in any way literally at all. In my mind, 13 did that just so they would see his real face and not a fake version of him but it’s like.. there’s no way she wouldn’t know that the colour of his skin would get him punished more. I like to just pretend it didn’t happen bc literally why tf. It’s so OOC

The connotations of this are uh, not good. Like I dread to think what kind of places he had to escape from after what 13 pulled. But in my mind it didn’t happen so it’s fine. Also I can’t wait for all the stories we get about the other stuff that happened during those 77yrs

I don’t have a problem with the memory wiping. I think it makes sense for Ada bc she’s at like, the beginning of her life before she makes big discoveries or whatever she does lmao. I guess she coulda left Noor but I don’t really care that she wipes her memory too. It doesn’t feel like the big moral bending issue that people make it out to be. It was justified imo.

Love how they ask to know who she really is and she just goes to the script she’s been saying for over a thousand years at this point like you know that’s not Really what they meant Doctor come on

Also that’s the last time we’re gonna hear them say that probably. Or if the Doctor does say that again, about being from Gallifrey or whatever, I’m hoping/expecting it to be said in a different way where it’s like we can feel them thinking of the TC

Like Pt1, this ep slaps, minus That moment. I think the only thing I don’t really care about is Barton but he plays his part I guess. I love that so much of this ep was just the Doctor and Master’s 10/10 dynamic. And the fam were great too.

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #graham o'brien #ryan sinclair #dw meta #nataliechats

[halloweenrazorcandii]

I mean if you know me by now you should also know that I'm not in the best headspace either, therefore I've been getting over it whilst still being upset about it if this paragraph makes sense

i knew it was going to happen eventually I just never wanted to say anything,, I've known since the Eli era baby (a little less but I've still had suspicions)

what upset me was the "I wish I never met you guys" but honestly at the same time i was just "sure whatever you say" in an I honestly don't have time to entertain whatever this is so I don't care right now way.. and I didn't really care after for a bit

the couple of times me and Kevin talked after I didn't bother asking about you because, well if you wish you never met me then why would I //neu but by that point I was kind of over it and way overdue for a therapy appointment so

i talked to myself a lot about it after and I know I'm self aware, so yeah I guess I still cared about it even after.. it just baffled me how you said that knowing wasn't in a good headspace and I had to think back like. did I ever say that to you at one point when you spiralled (nono, genuinely I'm still thinking about it, because what prompted that)

I'm STILL not in a good headspace which is why this is lengthy and it's a thought-spill because I don't have the energy to sugar anything

all of this isn't in //neg btw,, like even after then I didn't have any //neg feelings towards you but more of my usual "it's whatever" things

I do not mind talking to you after this or whatever, and I apologize in advance if I seem a little more callous than I normally would

but if you still wish you hadn't met me we don't have to talk we can just keep doing whatever we were doing before //gen

most of this is rushed because I'm being pressured to do chores jfc

im dizzy and awaiting a trip to the hospital in questioned time and i didnt know if i should respond to this yet because it wouldnt seem serious but i want you to know that i am im just not in a physical or mental state to sound as genuine as posisble though i am geuine so i apologize for spelling mistakes and or questionable sentences that dont make sense whatever i say i dont mean to self cneter or try to justify i have half a mind for what im saying rn /srs/gen i dont know where to start i know youn arent in the best head place or place at all and i dnt know or remember what this happened for but it did happen gradualy so i guess itwas building up i physically nor mentally more than 85% of the time cannot control what ido when i outburst especially with influence i have a disorder it will not be helped and i cannot say that i will not outburst because i literally yk cannot help it because i am a different person when i outburst hence cause - bpd n bipolar / insensity - other things and im being so serious when i say this and i am so sorry for saying that or saying that i wish i never met you guys thats what i was feeling so i said it and i shouldnt have and i am sorry and words cannot describe how confused i am on how to apologize correctly but i did not mean it for the most part i will be honest sometimes i have sour feelings when i am ghosted or ignored - this attatchments built up over the course of many years and if its being taken away then i am irrational and that is mostly explanation for why im so frequently upset - more than 2 weeks later it is still object of outbursts this explanation is not meant to feel guilt it isjto give reason because maybe its needed i give warning not to speak to me if it will be an issue i give warningthat if my issues will be problem like they have been then js dont try because you dont haveto do that to yourself though probably all too scaredto admit im a backgrounder now and i shouldve left yuou all alone long ago and im so glad you have newer and better friends and seem to be making a good place here from my perspective it seems your better off if we branch off but thats not my choice i do hope you and the rest of whatever is left of that old group continue to grow and i again apologize about all of this and i have reason for shame andm i hope your a ltleast doin g better and having fun with everyone i still warn that js do whats bets fro yourself we arent close anymore nor related if you consider so it doesnt really matter abt my show i js wanted to make a point to poorly and breielfy i do recognize apologize and tell you you deserve good and all great and youve done so much for everyone and i hope you get better from here yeah idk what to say im kind of dizzy in the head rn but i do mean it wehn i say you deserve better and im sorry ijsdont know how to show it i wish i couldve made this better but mi blank i appreciate your codnsideration

[edotfightme]

The Harder Path That Could Have Been Walked

So I'm doing a live reaction to my own 10,000 word fic that I forgot I wrote. Link here. You'll probably have to read the fic to understand my reactions because I am not keying them to each part.

A lot of this is me complaining about my own writing.

Let's go!

-----<>-----

What the fuck are these tags? WHAT DO YOU MEAN KIND OF???

Why did I tag sad racoons?

Wtf do you mean "don't summon void dragons" why is that in the tags???

I finally got past the tags.

This is a lot of worldbuilding in the notes let me check how much. 540 words of worldbuilding in the tags alone.

Wtf where did I find that language what does it say?

I can't understand a single word that was said before it translated to English it doesn't really work for an effect like I clearly intended. Plus the paragraphing makes it hard to read.

Bruh the first part was badly written we're starting off strong.

Oh shit, I started recognizing the second part. Ish. Holy shit it's like a core memory was unlocked. I remember thinking this was super cool. Let adult (questionable) me be the judge of that.

Hang on I think I realized why the hook was so shit. I was trying to keep his identity hidden. Still sucked though but good on you younger me. Still too many paragraphing issues. This was before I sorted those out methinks.

Holy shit Technoblade was still alive when I wrote this. Just had a moment while I thought of it.

Eww more text I can't read. Gonna scroll to the bottom to see if I translated it. MF I DIDN'T TRANSLATE FOR EVERYONE???? Where is the fic on my computer I need to figure out the translation- I'll finish this first hold on.

Lmao Tommy got put in his place. Should've put some sort of descriptor on the text so people knew how the Piglin was talking and which ones were talking. It's too intuitive.

"What are they saying?" I wanna know that as well Techno.

I just looked for the document and couldn't find it. The meanings will be lost to time.

Oh shit I forgot about the racoons. I gave Tommy a ton of racoons. That must be the sad racoons I mentioned. Wtf am I going to do with a bunch of racoons???

I wish I didn't press 'enter' so much jfc. Learn to write a paragraph little me. Number 1 thing I'll tell myself if I ever time travel is to write a god damn paragraph. This is exhausting to read.

Ewww I forgot about "pog".

Lol he scared the shit outta everyone you go kiddo!

The references to the bits are actually pretty funny though. I just wish I could understand WHATEVER THE FUCK THE PIGLINS ARE SAYING!!!

Also the lack of racism in this book infuriates me. Don't get me wrong, I don't condone racism, but could they be just a tad bit more racist to properly set up that they are the bad guys. The cult stuff isn't enough. We need to really hate these guys. TREAT THEM LIKE SHIT!

Lmao Tommy just had a moment where he's just fucking experiencing a past life. Which is mood. Like when you're walking in a crowd and you lock eyes with a familiar stranger and you stop for a moment to stare, wondering who they could've been to you. But then the moment shatters and you're left standing with the broken remains of what could never be.

The pacing and plot convenience is shit though (where is the racism? The foreign and silent curiosity of who you are?) let me just continue the fic.

I WANT TO FUCKING READ THIS FIC NOT A TON OF GLYPHS! The whole fic will be like this god dammit. I didn't realize this was my era before I learnt how to write foreign languages.

Haha. The random moment where it's just gibberish and then "fuck".

For those of you who aren't reading alongside me, here's piglin dialouge for reference:

"ᛟᚺ! ᚺᛁ! ᛁᛟᚢ ᛊᛈᛖᚨᚲ ᛈᛁᚷᛚᛁᛊᚺ?! ᛏᚺᚨᛏ×ᛊ ᚷᚱᛖᚨᛏ! ᛗᛁ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ ᛁᛊ ᛉᛖᛈᚺᛁᚱᚢᛊ!"

wtf does that even say???

"... that good old pogtopia look in his eyes" what was younger me smoking???? I can picture the exact expression but jesus christ kid are you alright?

Why the fuck can Phil speak english? Are they all speaking a different language? What is happening right now?

"The door to their cell swung open and Mr "Goes missing and freaks everyone the fuck out but is fine since he joined a cult" runs in." Holy shit little me you fucking killed him.

"Don't worry mate you won't be sacrificed." What kind of reassurance is that? I know it's like that on purpose but it's terrible. The unknown is scarier than the known. That's what I was banking on with Sinners.

"Eventually, Wilbur stopped looking like he was 5 minutes away from war crimes and now looked like he was 2 seconds away from war crimes for a different reason." I'm sorry but these quotes are something else. Where is the comma? You could've made this a beautiful paragraph but it's just a sentence. DESCRIBE THE ANGUISH!

Which corner is Wilbur staring at? Shouldn't he just like... glare at Phil with murder in his eyes? Also why is Tommy the attack dog? I get that Wilbur is roleplaying a drama club goth but shouldn't Techno logically be the protective one here? Or them all trying to shuffle each other behind themselves like some weird fight. And Phil's just standing there confused and vaguely exasperated, like it's someone else's emotions.

Don't make me rewrite this fic I don't want to touch it again.

Lmao them being so distracted by roleplaying drama kid goths and they forget to escape. Most realistic thing I've seen so far.

WAIT THIS IS ME PRE-PANIC ATTACKS THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH.

Plaininnit lol that's actually a good one. Also why are they answering? Make him fight for the info you muppets! But the mental disorders though.

What was the point of that entire prison scene? It looks like it served no purpose. It didn't move the plot forward at all! It just served to show us that Phil can also speak normal? Like- we could've had that later?

At last, a piece of dialogue I think I understand! The X must be an apostrophe then.

Why is Wilbur speaking in percentages? I should've had Techno's chat run a poll and the odds not looking too good.

Why is Phil in the cult council? Did I explain that? Idk if it was in the worldbuilding or later...

Why'd Tommy also shout in another language? What is with younger me and making reading difficult? I can tell why this one was so poorly recieved, nobody wants to translate a book to read it.

Eww I used "snapped" twice in the same sentence.

Why is Tommy suddenly mute now? I know I had a reason, I just can't remember it.

Hang on I gotta scroll up and read some world-building rq.

Wait fuck what is the techno quote??? oh right- "WELCOME HOME THESEUS!" Just got to the part where Tommy mimes his name across.

*to the music of where is the justice* "Where is the pacing?"

Why the music memory thing? I know what I'm meaning for the audience to ask themselves but why did I do that? I should've introduced that later on. It would've made a better plot.

Lmao the warped fungus bit was funny though.

Bruh I nailed the creepy elder thing on the head. I don't know why I'm just good at writing sleazeballs taking advantage of kids (not sexually, just in a way that grates uncomfortably against the reader). I don't know where that comes from.

WAIT I THINK I MIGHT'VE REMEMBERED A PLOT POINT! Are all of Wilbur's snakes lavaproof? Is that why I had the scene?

Oh that is disgusting what is wrong with you little me? I should've tagged cannibalism. It feels like cannibalism.

The pandora's vault Dream being grounded bit is funny and I live for it. Little me had ideas. Offputting ideas but ideas.

Lol Elder took the jukebox.

This is so uncomfortable to read but not in the way an Elder scene is. Just Phil thinking that Tommy's eyes being red means he's happy but it's fake. And Phil hating it when Tommy's eyes are blue is just tragic. Because it comes across as Phil hating it when Tommy is himself and then he's happy when Tommy wakes up brainwashed but Tommy came to him for comfort because he was fucked I just- Little me you are one messed up kid.

HAHA He named Cat "Dream" because it envokes bad memories.

Oh wait that's what the beneath the surface intention was. The surface reference was that the colours reminded him of the people.

Phil dropped Ancient Debris on his foot. Wouldn't it be fucked up if Mojang added a weight limit in Minecraft?

KRISTEN!!!!

The typos in her description though... I want to cry.

OMG KRISTEN IS HIS THING! That's actually adorable though. Little me knows how to make me aww.

More Techno vs the Warped Fungus bit I am living for it.

What is with the blue and red strobe lights that are Tommy's eyes? What is wrong with him? Little me? Explain?

Wait why is everyone just vibin in the castle? What's with that? Also Phil being a moron for Kristen and she's just being a little shit. Dream joined a nether fortress as well lmao.

Oh that's what the warped fungus bit joke was for. So he could still be lava-proof.

BRUH WHY DID I WRITE THAT??? I SPOILED THE PLOT TWIST!

Wait why are we singing ten duel commandments? Did I organize the ending to that song? that sucks.

OH MY GOD I WROTE A CHILD GROOMER??? Holy shit that is foul. I was a child when I wrote this. What the fuck? No wonder why I was getting the heebie jeebies. I literally wrote the Elder as a character that is grooming Theseus.

The wills part was so out of place idk.

Double use of worried kill me now.

Oh damn the Phil and Kristen scene hit. That one definetly didn't feel out of place.

OH SHIT I didn't expect Phil to pull Tommy out of his ass. The jail scene looks important now.

They found him. Chat. It's only a matter of time.

Aww trauma babies. Them all being so traumatized that they're fully on alert and watching for fireworks.

LMAO SHIT HITS THE FAN AND PHIL DIPS WHAT A CHAMP.

Also the fact that I'm pretty sure the Elder was placing Tommy into a drugged trance and basically hypnotising him is fucked up. Younger me you are messed up.

Kristen's entrance was pretty darn good. Like the crows being death and just everyone and everything knowing who exactly is gracing their halls is terrifying and excellent.

Philza for the save finally! Let's go!

Lmao Techno's mates at the Bastion being right bastards and telling the gossip I am living for it.

OH shit, the author notes at the end. The entire flock was there. Damn, Elder was not escaping with his life after grooming one of his kids.

-----<>-----

And that's it! I hope you enjoyed my commentary on my 10,000-word book. I actually found it enjoyable to rediscover my own book. I can understand how other people got put off by it but after slogging through the dialogue I couldn't fucking read it was a decent story. A few issues but overall a fun experience.

#writing #fiction #ao3 #dream smp #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #dream smp fanfiction #blind reaction #blind reacting to my own fic #i regret everything #i regret nothing

[ahungeringknife]

Repostober 3

I don't remember if I ever posted this before but I DO know it's old (like 2016 jfc) and I still :eyes: about it. This really helped me figure out stuff about the actual main characters (Relora is their mom) and the MC's relationship with his patron god.

*marge holding a potato pose* I just think she's neat

------

In her dreams there was smoke and the smell of cinnamon spice. There was the sound of swords and spears clashing against each other. There was rivers of blood that washed under the cracks in doors and splattered on walls. And there was screaming. So much screaming.

When she was awake it was much quieter.

A hot wind rustled the leaves of the carefully manicured trees around the oasis and caressed Relora’s face like rough hands of a lover. She closed her eyes against it and whispered into the wind a single, perfect, impossible, wish. That Spayar was alive. She didn’t want to tempt her chances with ‘safe’. Alive would suffice. She heard someone come up behind her and turned.

It was Javin. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her as he came up to her. Javin was tall and light skinned with strange, straight black hair, and black eyes. His mother had been a Xai slave, his father from the noble caste. A bastard son with a slave and still had more reputation than Relora to most Dirinnans.

“Not long,” she lied. She liked being out on the patio that overlooked the oasis and the desert around it. It was like from here she could see Riten, and in the west there were the Nevarsk mountains, huge and looming like the teeth of the gods. Javin didn’t like her being out here in her condition. The sun was always a killer and out here in the Amber Sea it was especially brutal. There was no covering on the patio and the pale stone could be blinding and cook you in no time if you weren’t careful.

“Why don’t you come back inside?” he coaxed her and took her hand. She really didn’t want to but she followed him anyway. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” she asked.

“You know what I mean,” Javin said and looked back at her and her huge stomach.

“Then who are you worried about?”

“You, of course,” Javin said, insulted. He led her into a sitting room where not a few others were also sitting and relaxing, talking, playing some sort of hand games or just by themselves. She let herself be made to sit and Javin took a knee in front of her. “Spayar was my friend,” he reminded her. “I told him I’d look after you.”

“I’m able to do that myself,” she said, knowing she sounded ungrateful but also knew it was just the hormones. Not that it wasn’t untrue. As soon as she’d been able she’d fled from her mother’s side and taken care of herself. Hadn’t been hard, her mother had hated her.

Javin knew that too because he didn’t take offense. “I know,” he said patiently. “But you’re in a delicate state right now. Spayar would be reborn just to kick my ass if I let anything happen to either of you,” he glanced down at her stomach again.

“Heh… yes he would,” she agreed.

“Stay inside the rest of the day, hmm? Havarsi says we should be getting word from Ûrdovük today. So we should know some more things. Maybe it’ll have good news.”

“Right,” Relora said but hardly believed herself. It’d been nearly an entire Watch without a single sign that any of their missing friends had been found. No one had even heard rumor that anyone who hadn’t already been accounted for was even still alive. Not that it was exactly easy to say who might be dead or captured since those damn warlocks had destroyed all their tunnels and buildings.

“Have faith,” he said, patting her knee.

“Javin, that’s all we are, is faith,” she said.

“Then keep it like that,” he said and got up. He kissed her on the cheeks and between the eyes. “I’ll come get you when Havarsi says we get news,” Javin squeezed her shoulder and she nodded. He left her there and Relora was left in the sitting room.

It didn’t take long for others to come over to bring Relora into their conversations. They asked how her pregnancy was going and each one of them made a wish over her stomach for her unborn baby’s benefit that made her smile. They talked about what they were doing out here at the oasis. Everyone had a job to do and they were just taking a break. They also spoke about how lucky Relora was since the Watch of Light was predicted to be coming to an end so her baby would likely be born during the Watch of Rain. That, of course, was lucky. Double so since Relora was also born during a Watch of Rain and Rain children born of Rain mothers were especially lucky. Of course she was due very soon and this Watch had been especially long.

While they talked they worked. Those who did sewed and those who didn’t did something else, like carving or knot work. Relora wasn’t good with her hands in any of those ways and someone ventured out to the kitchen for her. They came back with fruit that needed to skinned and deseeded and a perfectly sharp little knife for her. It was nice to talk and work even if her big stomach made it difficult.

Around sunset Javin came back and found her almost exactly where he’d left her. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I must steal Relora away.”

“Go do something useful, Javin,” one of the men complained.

“Yes, we’re busy. So should you be.”

“Pft, once a noble’s son always a noble’s son,” it was not meant to be taken seriously and everyone laughed, even Javin.

“I’m sorry. My hands are just so soft and delicate. What if I pricked myself with a needle? Or cut myself with a knife?” Javin complained in dramatics. “I would be ruined!” The group laughed again as Javin helped Relora stand. “Havarsi was right. News came in from Ûrdovük from our friends.”

“Good news though?” Relora asked as she followed Javin out of the room.

“I don’t know. He just said he’d gotten a letter and I came right to get you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“All we can do is pray, right?” he gave her a hopeful look.

“Right,” she agreed softly as they walked across the common house to a private office-like room where Havarsi was standing at the window, stroking the head of his sandpiper owl.

“There you went,” Havarsi said, turning to them. Havarsi was old, his curly black hair with streaks of white throughout and his dark skin was loose around his mouth and jowels. But his black eyes were still sharp. He was low born, a fisherman by birth who’d married the daughter of shepherds. They’d never had any children. Neither of their caste positions were easy lives and they’d decided unless their children could move up and not across in the caste system they would have none. Since there was no vertical growth to be had in the caste system they’d never had children and it was why Havarsi had helped start the rebellion back before Relora had even been born. Nevi had been murdered far before Relora had joined but she’d heard all about the powerful hexite Nevi had been.

“I told you I was getting her,” Javin said.

“He said you had news from Ûrdovük?” she asked, almost too scared to want a real answer.

“Yes,” Havarsi said, nodding slowly.

“And? Good news. Any news?”

Havarsi went over to the low table and picked up the tablet. Unlike most, the rebellion used the art of clay tablets to send messages. The writing style was old and modern Dirinnans couldn’t read it but all prominant people in the rebellion knew how. Modern writing for Dirnine was intricate caliography that took up a lot of space and didn’t get to the point quickly but clay tablet writing was compact and you could fit a lot of information in very little space. “Came in with a caravan passing down to Sengai,” he said. “There was a raid on our eastern safe house, but everyone managed to escape. Fifty new recruits since last-

“I don’t care about that,” Relora snapped. “I want to know if they found any of our people!”

Havarsi’s face was emotionless, he gave away nothing. Her heart still dropped when he said, “They still have no information on if anyone from Dockery is alive. There’s still rubble-

Relora spit. Right into her hand and slapped it onto the clay tablet. Javin stared at her horrified and Havarsi was more than a little shocked. It was incredibly bad manners to spit on writing since ink could be diluted by your saliva. It was a clay tablet but the insult remained. “Don’t care,” she said and walked out.

“Hey— Relora-

“Don’t mind it Javin. She’s emotional and pregnant. She’s just upset,” she heard Havarsi tell Javin before she was out of ear shot.

Relora went to the kitchen and carefully made her way down into the cellar that had been carefully dug out so no sand could make it through the cracks in the walls. On a shelf against the wall were various satchels filled with food that wouldn’t go bad for a long while in case something happened and everyone had to get out quickly. They were cautionary but this far out in the Amber Sea the Monarchy didn’t care enough about them to reach their great jeweled hands out here to squish them. She grabbed one of the satchels and went back up the steep stairs and walked out of the common house.

She didn’t plan on going far, just to the other side of the oasis where there was a shed. She just didn’t want to be there anymore. Maybe she was being an irrational pregnant woman but she didn’t care. She walked away from the common house, around the oasis to the shed which was empty save for some tools and sat down in the shade. Across the water she could see the common house half hidden under the trees. Outside the sun was setting and she watched it. From the satchel she pulled out a candle and a fire starter and lit the candle, placing it on the counter in the shack. She sat on the stool at the counter and stared out the grated window at the Nevarsk in the west that cast long shadows and swallowed the sun, bringing an early twilight to this part of the Amber Sea. As the sun winked out between the grags of the Nevarsk Relora allowed what Havarsi had said sink in. No new information. She sniffed and before she knew it was crying into her hands.

It had been an entire Watch and they had no information on Spayar. Not a whisper. She didn’t even know if anyone was still looking. Or maybe they only were because Relora had asked. Because you didn’t just tell a powerful hexite like Relora no. They were looking knowing they would find nothing. And she could do nothing to help except wish. She couldn’t go back to Ûrdovük to help them look for Spayar because she was pregnant. Fazaar had put his foot down when she’d wanted to stay after the Dockery raid. She wasn’t staying. They’d lost so many at the Dockery raid. Both rebel soldiers and fellow hexites and that had been before the Monarchy had sent their mages to rip the block apart just to try and kill a few more. Relora had been a lucky one to escape and when she’d shown up at the eastern hideout Fazaar had been there. He’d told Javin to take her out to the Amber Sea where she would be safe. Safe to have her baby. Away from the caste system, where no one would care they’d been born to a rebel, an untouchable, or a hexite.

Relora put her arm around her stomach as she cried. Spayar was probably gone and all she had of him was the child growing inside her. She knew it would be a mage too. Because she’d woken one day and started sucking on coins. Any coins she could find even though everyone had laughed at her. She hadn’t cared and they’d stopped when she told them it was because her baby would be a metal smith like his father. Spayar had told him his mother had coated her hands and stomach with fine gold leaf when she’d been pregnant with him. It had been the only thing that had quieted him in her body so she could sleep. He said even when he’d been little she’d kept an iron coin in her cheek and his pacifyer had had a ring of iron on the back. It had been the only reason his family had risen to the top of their caste, almost able to push through to the next one if not for the invisible ceiling between them. Mages always pulled their families up from the lowest to as high as they could go in their caste.

Fazaar had sent Relora out here to have her baby so it’d be out of the caste system. If no one could prove who their parents were it meant no one could tell what caste a mage belonged to. It was a boon for the mage and it was why so many ended up in orphanages. Orphan mages could go on to be anything. Most of them ended up becoming dogs for the Monarchy so it hardly mattered and they lived in near slavery to the Monarchy. But out here the mage son of a powerful hexite and a metal smith could become a force for good for the rebellion. A powerful mage who might also be a hexite? Fazaar, Havarsi and the other leaders of the rebllion probably didn’t even care Spayar was dead. This wouldn’t be over soon and they knew it’d be decades yet before they toppled on the Monarchy. They had time for a powerful mage.

The entire thing just made Relora cry harder and she curled around her stomach. Her baby wouldn’t be a slave to the Monarchy. They’d just be a tool of the rebellion.

Eventually she exhausted herself. She drank some water and curled up on the wooden floor of the shack and fell asleep.

She didn’t know what woke her. Something. It had been sharp like the bark of a hyena but hadn’t been a sound. Relora sat up slowly, her head aching and looked around. She didn’t remember where she was a moment before knowing. Right. She’d been angry at Havarsi for giving her no news about Spayar and had come across the oasis to spite those men in the common house.

It wasn’t light out but she needed to go pass water from the night before. She hobbled out of the shack and squatted down around the back, her back to the wall. She she did she looked out across the dark landscape of the Amber Sea and its slow rolling dunescape that mirrored the tall crags of the Nevarsk. She rubbed her eyes, thinking she was seeing things, as she looked at the top of a dune. There was a lion up there. Lions didn’t come this deep into the Amber Sea. There wasn’t enough to hunt. But it was a lion. Then Relora nearly fell over when the lion shifted and half spread a huge pair of wings.

A sphinx!

Relora pulled herself up the wall of the shack to her feet, staring the sphinx. It was a duality creature. Both insanely lucky and beautiful, but it was a creature made by Sevok the lier. What was it doing here? What was she supposed to do? The sphinx looked across the Amber Sea and then around and right down at Relora. At this distance she couldn’t see its face too well but it was distinctly human-like. It looked down at her with golden eyes and then turned and started walking down the other side of the dune. As it did it flicked its tail in an almost ‘follow’ motion.

Relora was too shocked to move. Then she found her legs and went back into the shack and grabbed the water jug before going out to follow the sphinx. She crawled up the dune. At the top she was hit by a sharp feeling in her groin like she’d been stabbed. She looked down but saw nothing. It hurt like hell for a few seconds before easing and passing. She saw the sphinx down at the bottom of the dune and it looked up at her, swishing its tail. Relora started to slide down the dune and the sphinx started to climb the next dune.

Up and down and up and down they went. Every now and then a pain would shoot through Relora and a few times she fell to one knee but always got back up. The sphinx always waited for her. Then they came to a flat part of the Sea and there was no more climbing, which Relora liked because her legs were starting to hurt and cramp from the climbing. Instead, somehow, impossibly, they were at the base of one of the Nevarsk. Relora looked up the mountain. The sphinx did not go for the mountain. They went around to where the desert became trees. From a distance they looked green but as she followed the sphinx she saw they were gold and wrought iron. Or rather there was one huge tree that was black and gold and it was so large that it dominated her sight as she approached it. The trunk was as wide across as a Riten elephant and opalescent with thin, peeling, bark that had turned luminous at the edges.

Relora stared up in awe at the legendary tree. It was called the Dehvask tree. It was said the first King had been born from under it and and he’d gone on to create Dirin and the Monarchy, carving their country away from Riten and the once neighboring country of Betton before it had become part of the Federation. It was also said that the gods could be found under the Dehvask tree. Their favorite food were the fruits that grew in its branches.

There was a figure under the tree and Relora hung back. In the grey dawn she’d been walking in it was impossible to see who it was. They were long and lean and leaned against the Dehvask tree eating something. It took Relora a moment to realize it was eating one of the fruits of the tree. The sphinx went up to the god and they offered some to it. The sphinx took it gently in its mouth and slumped at their feet, gnawing on the fruit. Then the figure turned and noticed Relora. They raised their hand up to her in greeting, index finger held apart from the other three.

Slowly Relora approached the tree. “Hello?” she said cautiously and glanced at the sphinx which was ignoring her.

“There you are,” the god spoke with candor and a bright voice that was plesant to listen to. Finally she looked at him and felt the blood drain out of her face. It was Sevok. He was a handsome low lander with dusky dark skin and a head full of a thousand ringlets. His eyes were like sapphires and blood trickled from his mouth. Not from inside his mouth, but from around from where he’d torn away the stitches his father, Jai, had sewn his mouth shut for his disobediance.

“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.

Sevok stepped forward and she flinched when he reached out and put golden hands on either side of her stomach. Her baby woke and kicked her hard, right where Sevok’s hand was. “Shhh, little one, no need for that,” Sevok cooed and stroked Relora’s stomach gently. The baby quieted. He looked up at Relora, “They’re going to die,” he said.

“What?” she squeaked.

“I’ve been speaking with your patron,” he said. “She sees more children in your future, and they’re all going to die here.”

Relora was afraid before rationality kicked in. “Die of old age? Then of course they are.”

Sevok’s smile was sweet and terrible. “No,” he said. “This land will kill them. Every. Last. One. And those are the ones that don’t die in your womb.” She swallowed. “Your patron says you do more work when you suffer. Isn’t that cruel?”

“What do you want with me?” she asked.

“Do you want to continue to suffer? Do you want your children to die? If the Monarchy doesn’t find them and bend them to service your little rebellion will instead. You know that. The civil war here will kill them.”

“I don’t want them to die, or to suffer. I have suffered enough.”

“Yes, you have,” Sevok agreed and brushed his golden hand against her face. “I can help with that.”

“What? Do what?”

“I can make your child immortal,” Sevok said and drummed his fingers on the side of her stomach.

“That’s impossible.”

“I’m a god,” Sevok smirked. “You doubt me?”

“You’re a liar. Of course I doubt you,” she scowled at him.

“Ah, but I also tell the truth,” he tutted.

“What’s in it for you?”

He giggled. “You know, no one ever asks that,” he beamed at her. Even with the bloody face he was handsome. “Smart girl. I will make your child immortal but they will be mine.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I will be their patron.”

“And if I say no they will die?”

“Yes. Once they’re grown. Once they’re old enough for you to love them and they have made others love them. Once they’re so close to showing everyone an end is in sight. Then they will die.”

“And my other children? They will die too?”

“Yes. I’m not sure of the specifics, but they will.”

“How do I make sure they’re safe too?”

“Leave this place. This country. Go where you can be free.”

She swallowed. “Why do you want my child so much?”

“Because,” he smirked. “I know greatness when I see it,” his smirk grew into a broad, cunning, grin. “And I would pluck it from my brothers and sisters before they even knew they existed.”

Relora took a deep breath and pain hit her again. It was probably just the baby as it kicked her again. She closed her eyes and when she opened them looked down at her stomach. Her precious child. All she had of Spayar because he was gone. There was no doubt he was gone. If she found another and had more children it wouldn’t matter. This would be all she ever had of his love. She didn’t want to see her child die. Then it would be like what she and Spayar had had had never been. She looked up at Sevok. “You can have them. But you must promise me they will survive.”

“They will be immortal,” Sevok said.

“Which could mean fucking anything,” she growled. “I don’t care about immortality. I care that my child will not die.”

Sevok giggled again. “They will live for as long as they’re able. They will be powerful and respected because they will command it.”

“Will they be like me, or like their father?”

“More than their father, but not quite like you. Now do you agree?”

Relora took a deep breath. “You can have them,” she said.

“Excellent. Come,” he took her hand and led her under the Dehvask tree. There he pulled down one of the branches and plucked a fig shaped fruit from the boughs. It was a huge fruit and the skin shimmered like a mirage. He put it in her hand and it was heavy, heavier than a simple piece of fruit should have been. “You’ve been here before,” he said and reached up to grab the branch and hung from it like a monkey.

“I haven’t,” she said.

He giggled. “Yes, you have. All hexites have been to the Dehvask tree. Before you were born, before my father stitched your soul into your body, you were here. There you were given a choice. Eat the fruit of the Dehvask tree, or forego it. All Dirinnans are given the choice you know? The Dehvask tree is special to you people because Hehvahnstek likes you so much.” Relora didn’t like the sound of that. Hehvahnstek was a strange god. He was the god of the Watches and commanded when the rain fell and when it did not and he was also the god of growing and the god of withering. Hehvahnstek was almost as bad a patron a Sevok. “He planted the Dehvask tree in the body of a great New sphinx. Its starlight blood ran into the sands and became the Amber Sea, its gold and silver body allowed the Dehvask tree to grow and Aigin created the first Dirinnans from the wet sands of the Amber Sea. And so you were allowed to taste a thing gods had made and become almost like a New thing.

“Almost everyone says no. In fact, everyone did, until Behnv.” Relora’s eyes narrowed. Behnv was the name of the first King who’d ruled the Monarchy and lashed the Dirinnans into castes like cattle. “He was a hexite, did you know? And then no one ate from the tree for a long time after. Until recently. Old souls remebering their old homes and hating. They wanted power to fix what horror had been given to their home, so they gourged themselves on fruit from the Dehvask tree because it would give them power like a King.”

“And what will more do?” she asked him.

“Your fate will take you far from Dirin,” Sevok said, swining from the branch contently, a near happy smile on his face. “Dirinnans who leave the grace of the Amber Sea cannot try for the Dehvask tree. But eating one as you are now will do two things; it will allow your future children the same opportunity all Dirinnans have even if they are born far from here; and it will give you more power.” He snickered. “The living aren’t allowed to eat from the Dehvask tree. Only the dead.”

“Will Hehvahnstek be angry if I eat the fruit?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. Who can say. He tends the water fields with Perunez and squabbles over wind tides. He probably won’t even notice.”

Relora didn’t know who Perunez was. She looked at the color shimmering fruit. She winced as another pain hit her and she groaned, leaning over. “Has my baby eaten from the Dehvask tree?” she asked him once the pain passed.

Sevok’s smile was all cunning. “Maybe,” was all he said. “Who tries the fruit of the Dehvask tree is their own business. Now are you going to eat that?”

Relora looked down at the huge fig shaped fruit again. “If you know my fate will take me from Dirin do you know if Spayar is alive?”

“Who?”

“The father of my child.”

Sevok rose a perfectly sculpted brow at her. “Now why would I care if he’s alive or not? He’s a petty mage.”

“He’s the father of the child you want so badly,” she said, temper flairing.

“I still don’t see how that’s relevant,” Sevok said. “Regardless, I don’t know.” Relora glared at him, squeezing the sacred fruit so hard her fingers dug in to the tender flesh. Nector made of light started to leak down her hand. “Careful there. You only get one.”

She looked down at the fruit and took a big bite. It was cold in her mouth. So cold, like what she imagined ice tasted like. It numbed her tongue and made her jaw ache from the cold. As she ate the pain in her groin grew and she felt the baby kick her as hard as it could in the guts. Or she assumed it was the baby. The pain was sharp and then eased and then flared again without any rhyme or reason and she did her best to ignore it but the pain was so great tears flowed free from her eyes even as she ate. There was no end to the Dehvask fruit. No matter how much she ate there was always more. Sevok just watched as he hung from the branch, legs curled up under himself gleefully. The sphinx also watched from under the shade with it’s strange humanoid face and glinting golden eyes. Nector dripped down Relora’s arms and dropped into the red sands surrounding the Dehvask tree. It shined like starlight and became diamonds as it hit the sand.

She couldn’t finish it and she realized that was the trap of the Dehvask tree and the fruit that it bore.

The Dehvask tree gave power to any Dirinnan who cared to eat from it. Unborn hexites ate from the tree as bodiless souls and they ate until they could fill themselves with the power the Dehvask tree gave. It was the power of godhood. To directly change and alter things because you wished them to be that way. But eventually a flimsy, untested, unsewn, soul could eat no more and it allowed itself into the hands of Aigin’s six armed seamstresses who stitched the soul to its new body and it was allowed to fill itself with life, with knowledge and pain and greed. Souls had no greed. Only the living did and it was why the living weren’t allowed to eat of the fruit of the Dehvask tree or they would eat it unending. Souls only ate what they could fill themselves with. A person would eat until they could no more. But the Dehvask fruit never got smaller and Relora’s stomach never grew full. Instead she could eat unending until she put aside her greed, to know herself well enough to know she had had enough.

How much was enough? How much of the fruit did you have to eat before you became a demi god? Before you because a lesser god? Before you became a true god?

Only the pain made her stop. She doubled over as the worst pain yet hit her right in the gut and she saw stars and gagged on her power and blood. Her breath was ragged and saliva mixed with blood dribbled out of her mouth, open in wordless agony, and onto the barely eaten Dehvask fruit. She looked up at Sevok, her eyes still overflowing with tears. “Is this normal when a mortal eats this?” she asked him.

Sevok’s grin was devious though she supposed all his looks were devious. He was by nature a devious being. Aigin and Jai had made him to be nothing but. Another stab of pain and she convulsed, nearly dropping the fruit. “No. But it is pretty normal for pregnant ladies,” he said.

“What?”

He giggled. “Contractions,” he said.

“Did I do enough?” she asked.

“One bite would have been enough.”

She was shaking but didn’t drop the fruit even as she reached down and grabbed at her groin under her belly. “And what now?”

“Now,” Sevok said, “you are more powerful than you were before. So much more powerful.” Another contraction crashed into her and she almost fell over. Instead she just gasped in pain and bent over. “Never expected a little nothing girl like you to eat so much,” he said. “Let’s hope your child gets even half your ability. But now, you’re no use to me. Can’t have you dying here because of neglegence. Wake up.”

Relora opened her eyes as another contraction stabbed at her. She heard people calling her name. She was lying in the sand outside the back of the shack at the base of one of the great dunes. Above the sky was strange and only half there and she could only see a few of the stars in the dark. A dream? She’d had a dream. What a terrible dream.

Feet ran up to her and she looked up at them. No Javin but the other hexites who’d been hiding out here at the edge of the Amber Sea. “Relora,” Sehvarh said.

“What are you doing here?” Haf didn’t ask her, they were asking one of the others.

“I had a dream,” Jermine said.

“As did I,” said Hevst.

“Did we have the same dream?” Haf asked them.

Relora smiled a little through a pain. “What did you dream of?” she asked them.

“A sphinx,” Jermine said and the others were nodding. “I was following a sphinx in the rain and we came upon you and you were dying.”

“I jumped right out of bed and ran here,” Hevst said.

“What are you doing out here?” Sehvarh asked her now.

Relora pushed herself up so she was somewhat upright. “A sphinx came to me too,” she said. “It led me to the Devhask tree,” everyone’s eyes widened. “I don’t remember what else,” she lied. “I just remember in my dream I thought I was dying.” She laughed helplessly in pain. “Instead, I’m in labor.”

“Oh!” and Sehvarh immediatly leaned down to help her.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jermine said and the two of them helped her sit. She gasped and moaned in pain.

“We need to get you back to the common house,” Sehvarh said.

“Someone run ahead and wake the midwife,” Jermine said as he and Sehvarh helped Relora stand. She grit her teeth as another contraction crashed into her and she saw stars. She’d been told about the pain of child birth but she honestly hadn’t expected it to be quite so acutely horrible. Nothing but the act of it prepared you for child birth. No amount of warnings or cautionary words or stories from other mothers prepared you for it. Haf ran off, kicking up sand as he did. Hevst stayed and helped the other two hexites half carry Relora back to the common house.

Lights turned on in the common house before they got near and she saw a few people come to stand out on the patio. Once they were close enough several of the larger men came out from the light that spilled out across the sands of the Amber Sea and took Relora from Sehvarh and Jermine. They carried her into the common house to the midwife who told them to place her gently on a wooden board that was at an angle from the ground with a place to put her feet. A large, deep, bucket filled with water from the oasis was put beneath the board and Relora whimpered in pain at another contraction.

Her midwife, Seri, checked her over. She put fingers in places Relora would really rather she didn’t and wiped the sweat off Relora’s face and removed most of her clothes so she wouldn’t overheat inside in the heat of a Watch of Light. “You’re very far along,” Seri said.

“Is that good?” Relora asked, panting and grimacing.

“It means you’ll be able to start pushing soon,” Seri said. Seri fiddled with something on the board and dislodged some sort of lock so Relora was allowed to recline a bit more and not put so much pressure on her feet so she could rest. At least for a little while before Seri moved the board back up into position.

It was day break when the quiet of the Sea was shattered when Relora screamed. All Relora knew was pain as her body felt like it was about to be ripped right in two. She had thought the contractions were bad but they were nothing to the labor of trying to give birth.

Between a trial to push her child out she slumped against the board, hair clinging to her face and her skin glittered with sweat. Seri had moved the board back up to a nearly forty-five degree angle so Relora had to sort of squat. She said it made birthing easier because gravity helped pull the baby out of the mother. Relora didn’t know or care if it was true. She just knew it hurt. Seri wiped her face of tears and sweat and gave her some cool mint tea. After she drank and looked up at the ceiling.

She had a strange sence of clarity then. She was a hexite. Before she’d just been a stronger than average one. But now she’d eaten deeply from the Dehvask tree and Sevok said she was even more powerful. She knew, somehow, that she had eaten for hours, and it had made her more.

“I wish my child was born,” she whispered.

“Alright, let’s try again,” Seri said, having not even heard Relora. “Ready to go, dear?” Seri asked.

Relora breathed deep, closed her eyes, and nodded. “I wish my child was born,” she said again opening her eyes and reached up to touch her third eye in the middle of her forehead.

She still sobbed and gave a half scream when Seri told her to push down. It took several more great pushes and cries before she felt a great pressure come lose in her body and gasped in relief. Her body ached and shook. “Almost there,” Seri said, right beside her, holding her arm. “Once more,” she encouaged and Relora gave a half hearted spasm and the afterbirth came out too. Seri moved quickly and lowered the board to horizontal and then pulled the deep bucket away from the board.

Relora lay there just breathing and trying to compose herself just a little bit. She had never felt so exhausted. She’d never felt so much pain. She lifted her head weakly when she heard the first cry of little lungs who’d breathed their first breath. She tried to sit up. “Just stay there, I’ll bring him to you in a moment.”

“Him?” Relora asked weakly.

“Mhm!” was all Seri said and Relora sagged onto the board. Seri came over and Relora opened her eyes and looked at Seri. The midwife was holding a swattling of red and gold cloth framing a little brown face and squinty black eyes. “The cause of all that screaming. Quite a cutie, isn’t he?” Seri teased her. Relora reached out and Seri let her touch them. “Let’s get you onto something more comfortable and then you can hold him, how’s that sound?” Relora nodded mutely, staring at her new son.

Seri called someone in to help her and Relora was gently peeled off the board like dried laundry on a rock. She was wrapped in a red and blue kitenge, leaving one breast exposed, and half carried across the birthing room to a more comfortable bed filled with cattail fluff. Relora basked in the comfort of it and Seri came over to her and offered the infant to her. Relora gladly took the child to her breast and looked down at him with all the love and affection she could muster. He was looking at her with his beautiful black eyes and she loved him more than anything in that moment.

Seri fussed over her a little before calling in more men to come get the birthing bucket. It would be thrown out deep in the Amber Sea for whatever wanted to eat it. Relora hardly noticed. She was so captivated by her new son and how perfect he was. She stroked his face and he yawned, making her smile. He was so tiny and perfect and she was already forgetting the pain he’d caused her. It seemed so meaningless now that he was in front of her now. Who cared that he’d caused her pain? He was here now and she would never let him go.

Eventually she slept and woke to the cries of those around her. At first she thought it was trouble but as she woke she heard that the voices were joyous. She turned and adjusted the shutter on the window. It overlooked the patio and the oasis. Outside it was pouring and nearly everyone was outside running in the rain. Next to her her son was woken by the commotion and he started to squirm a little. “Look little one,” she said and showed her son the outside. “It’s raining out. You were born on the first day of the Watch of Rain,” she smiled and stroked his bald head. He just whined and squirmed and she offered him her breast, left exposed for this very reason. She giggled when he immediatly latched on and started to suckle. She wiped at his mouth with her thumb when he sucked so hard he coughed a little back up. “It isn’t going anywhere,” she told him and her son was just looking up at her as he nursed. She stroked his face and laid back down tiredly dozing as the rain fell outside.

#writeblr #writblr #original fiction #original fantasy #original character #repostober #the fey alliance