#still very much a draft so I apologize for any errors

[livesincerely]

on my hands and knees for a take a shot snippet 😭 i just know this fight is gonna take me out

Ask and you shall receive! But brace yourself

00000

“Jackie, stop,” Davey says, his voice shaking. “I know you wouldn’t, it ain’t like that—“

“Then what’s it like, Dave?” And now Jack can feel his own eyes starting to sting, a lump forming in his throat. “Explain it to me. Because I don’t understand.”

Davey’s mouth parts, his features drawn and pale.

“I… I can’t,” he breathes, the refusal nothing but a sigh on the wind.

“…You can’t,” Jack repeats quietly, and he feels something crack and crumble, deep inside. “You can’t? Wha⁠— What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Dave? Huh?!” His voice breaks as it all comes pouring out of him, a geyser of feeling that’s finally erupted. “Am I supposed’ta jus’ sit around with my thumb up my ass, waitin’ for you decide I’m good enough to talk to again?”

“Jack⁠—”

“‘Cause that’s the thing, ain’t it, Dave? Jack spits. “It’s not that you can’t explain it⁠⁠—Race and the rest of ‘em, they all know damn well what the fuck’s goin’ on with you, don’t they? It’s that you won’t explain it to me. Not even when I’m down on bended knee, worried outta my skull, beggin’ ya to let me in.”

And then, because he couldn’t keep in even if he tried: “Why can’t you trust me anymore?”

Davey makes a noise in the back of his throat, low and wounded. 

“Jack, I⁠— It’s not that simple⁠,” he says, his eyes wet and pleading, and the fact that even now, Jack can’t hardly stand to see him cry, is infuriating.

“Seems pretty fuckin’ simple from where I’m sittin’,” Jack says, forcibly hardening his heart. “If you don’t want me around anymore, then that’s⁠— that’s fine. You ain’t the first an’ you won’t be the last. But I thought you’d at least have the decency to say it to my fuckin’ face instead of draggin’ it out like this.”

He shoves himself to his feet, his arms and legs trembling faintly. “Message received, okay?” he says with a bitter scoff. “Loud an’ clear.”

“Jackie, wait!” Davey’s fingers clutch at his forearm, his hands clammy and frantic. “You don’t⁠— It’s not that I don’t want to tell you⁠—”

“Then tell me!” Jack shouts as he whirls back around. “For fuck’s sake, Dave, you’re acting like I broke your heart!”

And Davey looks absolutely gutted⁠—cracked open, exposed, and raw—and he staggers back a half step, dropping Jack’s arm like he’s been punched in the gut.

Jack stops dead in his tracks. The frustration that had been swirling inside him, the churning froth that threatened to capsize everything in its wake, flickers and dies like a candle being snuffed out. Icy cold seeps through every crack and crevice of him, down into his lungs and out through his veins, freezing him right to the bone.

Silence. Gaping and unfathomable. Then:

“I think you should go,” Davey whispers. 

Jack’s throat clicks, the chamber jammed. 

“…Dave,” he starts, hushed, hardly daring to breathe, suddenly and impossibly aware of just how brittle the space between them has become. “Davey, did I break your heart?” he asks.

Davey swallows so hard it looks painful, like he’d rather choke it all down than let another word escape. “Please go.”

“Are you in love with me?”

“Jack,” Davey says, his voice utterly shattered. “Stop it.”

But Jack can’t. He doesn’t know how.

#*editor's note #*the writing desk #*ask #bits & bobs #take a shot fic #like I said it’s Bad #and there’s still worse to come #but this fall out has been a long time coming #still very much a draft so I apologize for any errors

[residenthughes]

coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

-

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

-

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

-

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

-

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

-

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

#connor dewar x reader #connor dewar #connor dewar fic #cd24 #minnesota wild #toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #connor dewar fluff #dewey 2 #brandon duhaime #dewey 1 #dewey #residenthughes

[diagonal-queen]

May i request headcanons of lovesick tecchou? :)

yes you can!

Lovesick Tecchou Headcanons

♡ pairing: Tecchou Suehiro x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: ...read the title bestie

♡ cw: Kinda obsessive and toxic behaviour. Being lovesick is fine but don't hurt anybody!

note: This kind of borders on yandere Tecchou. Sorry if that's not what you wanted T-T and apologies for errors, hope you enjoy x

Tecchou loves very strongly though he may not seem like the type. He can come off as obsessive at times but that's just because he loves you so much <3

He's so extremely protective of you. He wants to be near you whenever he's able to and so most of the time

He gets jealous rather easily whenever you spend time with anybody he considers to be a romantic rival, but he always feels bad about it. He wants to trust that you'll choose him but he can't help his self-doubt.

He makes up any excuse to either have you stay the night at his place, or he stays at yours. Tecchou feels like it's the only way he can keep you safe at all times, and plus he feels lucky to be around you in your most vulnerable state.

He tends to zone out and daydream about your hypothetical future lives together. Jouno can tell when he does this and he's so tired of it.

Tecchou likes to provide subtle but kind acts of service for you. Sharing his food with you, holding open doors, putting a blanket over you when you fall asleep...things like that. He loves the feeling he has when you thank him for that kind of stuff.

While he's working, there are times when he just wants to leave so he can spend time with you. But you're also one of his main motivations as a Hunting Dog, because he knows that in the end he's not only helping the country, but you as well.

His absolute favourite thing in the world is when you two are cuddling one another and he gets to lay his head on your chest while you play with his hair. It makes him feel safe too, and while doing so he likes to pretend that you feel the exact same about him as he does for you.

You're one of the main things Tecchou talks to the other Hunting Dogs about. Jouno listened at first but he's very much started tuning it out by now, as have the rest of the members. You're his biggest distraction.

He's always there for you whenever you're experiencing any troubles, and he'll do everything in his power to fix them for you.

When it comes to your romantic issues though, he can get a little jealous. He'll still listen and console you, but if there's anyone specifically bothering you he is gonna have a word with them.

When I say word, I really do mean word. He might be jealous but he is an honourable and sensible person. If need be he might make a threat or two though, because he just can't help himself. He loves you so much and nobody who would hurt you deserves to be yours.

Tecchou is more than willing to let you borrow his clothes, and in fact he sometimes subtly encourages it. Maybe he left his shirt on your couch or maybe he convinced you not to bring a jacket when the two of you go out, knowing you'll end up needing one and he'll be able to give you his. He thinks you look adorable in his clothes.

He has so many drafted love confessions to you in his Notes app, he's got several playlists dedicated to you, you're his Wi-Fi password. He'll find a way to incorporate you into far too many aspects of his life.

He also memorises almost everything about you. If you tell him something random about yourself, like your favourite food or a bone you've broken before, he'll remember it all. He might also mention it later so you know that he's always listening to you.

Tecchou loves you so much, more than anything. Why don't you love him back?

Taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fedyushka, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #headcanons #bsd hcs #tecchou hcs #tecchou suehiro #tecchou #bsd tecchou #bsd tecchou suehiro #tecchou x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #x reader #bsd x reader #x gn reader #soft yandere #lovesick headcanons #lovesick

[unreleasedwrites]

𖤐 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𖤐

✃ 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝓉ℴ 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝑔ℯ !

⌗ 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ⌗ 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍

⚠︎︎ 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐞

I really don’t write much at all. As seen with my posting habits, I’ll suddenly post 1-2 new works then I’ll disappear for a few months and upload again, and the cycle repeats— Which is why I am so sorry if your request or even questions takes various weeks or months to be done / answered.

It’s due to the fact that I am a student, so I tend to be very busy with my studies.

I do see everything that makes its way into my inbox, it’s just that I have so many drafts due to various ongoing ideas and requests. With that being said, I’m so sorry if you see that I uploaded a new post while the request / question you sent in is still in my drafts / inbox.

It was most likely because what I posted was in my drafts first so it already had progress.

My dividers make more sense when you’re on dark mode (I just couldn’t figure out how to make it transparent, and I’m too busy to find the time to)… I also only write on my phone as I only use my laptop for school— so, most of my posts would look nicer at the end of each line if you’re on a phone.

I don’t proofread the entirety of my finished works so along the lines, there may be grammatical / spelling errors that I overlooked, so I apologize in advance.

You can ask for pt.2’s or more of some of my fics if you’d like!!

sorry for the formalities of tone and text

theres probably spoilers in my account so beware

✔︎ 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Whether you credit me or not, please don’t copy or try to claim any of my works, with or without permission.

I appreciate all the feedback under my works. I'm sorry if I don't reply to them, but I do see them and I am so happy to see that there are people who actually seem to like my writing. I really appreciate all of you, thank you so much!! ❤︎︎

❣︎ 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

❥ I only write for lookism characters

I don’t write for any of the girls, except maybe Mary Kim?

Other than that, I write for almost any character. No matter the generation, occupation or situation.

My fav characters are the Baek brothers, Yoojin & Yooseong, Gun & Goo, Seongji & Jaegyon, Jihan, James, Jiho, & Gitae.

❥ I only write the reader as female

I write the reader as a female because I am one, so it’s much easier for me to write and visualize.

But feel free to just alter the pronouns used (she/her) and the descriptions of the reader in your head.

❥ I write fluff, smut, and suggestive fics / drabbles

Check out my ⌗masterlist for the different series’ and types of fics that I write. I can write angst but its bad 😭

➪ Please also be very specific with your request, as there are many possible scenarios and I’d like to be sure of what you are expecting.

➪ Please also have some consideration with the fact that I am a stressed student so I am very busy and can’t just be writing 24/7.

#lookism #about myself #about me #lookism fic #lookism manwha #manwha #webtoon #anime lookism #fluff #lookism anime #lookism fandom #lookism imagines #request #prompt #prompts #unreleasedwrites #guidelines

[inkabelledesigns]

18 and 25 for the writer's ask meme!

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

For Searching the Depths, I had it in my old drafts that there was a secretary that knew Sammy had a sweet tooth and kept candy in her drawers specifically for him. It has absolutely no bearing on the plot whatsoever, but it's a really nice detail and it's still a part of the world lore, regardless of whether or not I choose to call it out again later.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. I'm going to put this under the cut, because it's a little long, but oh boy I have so much to say about this. I'm going to give you a dialogue exchange, also from Searching the Depths, for a chapter that's a long way from being released, something that happens within the ink realm that absolutely tears me to shreds.

Bella cried out. "I didn't know it was REAL! I-I never would've messed with it if I had, I swear-" 

"Kid, why are you apologizing? You did the right thing." Jack asked. 

"We don't know that!" Sammy hissed. "We had a plan, a way out! Now everything is thrown out the window! We have to start from square one and we're running out of time!" 

The more he barked, the more she shrank away from him, unable to meet his gaze. 

"Things weren't any more certain before and you know it." Jack crossed his arms. "Even with the same events repeating over and over again, Joey STILL had all the power. If it's not his story anymore, then he's not in control. And that gives us a fighting chance!" 

"Oh please, like that'll stop him." Sammy huffed. "From where I'm standing, our future is more uncertain than ever!" 

"Well then we'll just have to do our best and make it better, won't we?" Jack held his hands on his hips. "Sam, come on, look at her. She didn't mean for this, ease up will ya?"

"I'm with Jack on this one." Bendy piped up. "If we're really gonna play the blame game, I'm the winner here. None of this would be so dire if I hadn't gone meddling." 

"My lord-"

"No, Sam…it's true. I wouldn't even be your lord if I hadn't poked around where I shouldn't have." He sighed. "But I was a young idea back then, I had to grow up, make mistakes." He looked at Bella. "Same goes for you."

She sniffled as she looked back at him. "This is more than a mistake. This is a critical error. I can't- I helped do something even worse than what you were already going through, that's- it's unforgivable."

"...He tricked you, just like he did all of us." Jack looked at her sadly, connecting the dots. "Found someone desperate to exploit. You…at least you tried to make something good out of it. It's more than I can say."

This entire sequence is so near and dear to my heart. I have been trying to find the right way to introduce the concept of Bella finding out she's trapped in a story for the longest time, but one of the things that's changed within my drafts is that it's her draft of the story that she's in. I realized along the way that I'm not interested in writing the story of BATIM beat for beat, I wanna put my own spin on it and have some events that aren't in that original. So having a naive artist mess with the cycle without realizing she's affected real people on the inside until it's too late? Now you're talkin'! And now that the ink has claimed its newest victims, there's so much in store for everyone in its grasp.

This conversation was originally very exposition-y, some parts of it still are, with Bendy as the one to explain what's going on, but it's grown so much to be so much more. For one, Jack got an upgrade to main character trio status. He wasn't even in this scene originally. Two, Bendy and Sammy got a major characterization glow-up that I am so grateful for. I love how angry Sammy gets here, his frustration in this and the text that surrounds it is really fun to write. He's an interesting mix of his human self and his prophet self, and having Jack know how to navigate this angrier side of him is great. They bounce off of each other REALLY WELL. Also Bendy, gosh, Bendy has so much more to lose and so much he's already lost when it comes to this. He mirrors Henry's feelings of thinking this is all his fault (something something like father like son), but instead of trying to take on everything by himself, he's being open and honest about his feelings and relying on his allies for things he can't do alone. He's shown a remarkable amount of growth as I've gotten to know him more.

I can say the same about Bella. She's another character who sees herself as a responsible party and grows paralyzed when she's not sure how to fix it. She has a significant lack of belief in herself, which was important to show early on, but with these three by her side, she'll learn that she can be so much more. This is a character that life just kind of happens to, she feels no control over her situation, and it's true, there's a lot she doesn't have the power to do. But there's a lot she can do with what she has, and I can't wait for her to figure that out and forge her own path with these guys. She may be helpless and crying now, but that's not gonna be the case forever.

Thank you so much for the ask! This was the first one in my box, but I had to really think about it before I was ready to answer. I'm still accepting submissions for the writer's ask game if any of you wish to join me for some fun!

#ask game #writer's ask game #searching the depths #sammy lawrence #jack fain #bella ewe #bendy

[tyunni]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤENHYPEN (HYUNG LINE) + CONFESSIONS = ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ (getting confessed to by/confessing to enhypen)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤenhypen masterlist | library

wc: 2k+. warnings: cursing probably, english isn't my first language, maybe some spelling errors, not proofread. genre: fluff, comedy.

a/n: posting a draft, still semi-inactive until further notice. I'll be logged out most of the time. ALSO THAT HOON PART WAS PRE-WRITTEN FOR A DIFFERENT POST THAT'S WHY IT STICKS OUT SO MUCH I APOLOGIZE!

희승 - Heeseung . . .

out of all of them, heeseung has the hardest time confessing to you. i mean, he's a very good-looking guy and has had a lot of people give him chocolate or even love letters for valentines day throughout the years, but he hasn't really accepted any of them...

believe it or not, lee heeseung has never had a date for valentines day before!

so his fear of rejection - even though literally who would reject him - plus the anxiety of failing to make the day memorable, due to his lack of experience, if you do end up accepting his offer is eating him away slowly but surely.

really tries his best to approach you but when he actually sees you walking in all smiley and giddy talking to your friends he gets scared again.

luckily he had told the others about his simple but cute plan and they promised to support him no matter what, even if you rejected him! which they were sure wouldn't happen.

so when jay hears heeseung mutter a "abort mission!" the second you step into the room with your friends he smacks the back of his head and pushes him towards your direction, whispering a "you got this" in his ear as he does so.

and when you notice him stumble your way, he knows there's no way he can chicken out anymore without looking even more pathetic than when you reject him. WHICH ISN'T EVEN GOING TO HAPPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE-

"haha, hey y/n... let me cut straight to the chase, ireallylikeyouandiwantedtoaskifyoumaybewannabemyvalentine?" (i really like you and i wanted to ask if you maybe wanna be my valetine?)

his words are barely audible, but the blush that's creeping up his neck gives it all away. and when he shuts his eyes closed from the embarrassment you can't help but coo at him, shooing your buddies away and waiting for him to finally open his eyes.

which he... isn't doing.

at this point you think he's going to stand there with his eyes closed for the entirety of recess. so you take his hands in yours and lace your fingers together, hoping that will coax him into opening his eyes.

but you were wrong, instead of opening his eyes he shuts them even tighter as his face now turns completely red, ears burning up at the feeling of your soft skin against his own.

"of course, heeseung! now can you open your eyes please?"

제이 - Jay . . .

despite the fact that he looks confident and radiates this self-assured energy, he is quite literally falling apart on the inside.

he's got his best suit on, hair done perfectly to match his rock chic vibes and posture straight as he walks his way towards you. he had missed his chance of asking you to be his prom date before the party. he was ready to come up to you and read you this speech he was working on for days, but sadly something major came up and he had to leave earlier than usual.

that's why both you and he are currently one of the few people with no dates who still showed up at prom. don't get me wrong, both of you received a fair share of confessions and what-nots but you were waiting for that one special person.

the funny thing is, you yourself were going to ask him to be your partner for prom, yet felt so discouraged when there was no sign of jay the day you were finally going to muster up the courage and talk to him. hoping to catch him at the party - assuming he would already have a date because come on who are we fooling? it's park jongseong, the man of everyone's dreams - and finally confess to get over this stupid crush.

your eyes are glued to his figure that's slowly making its way towards you, and just by looking at him you already feel weak in the knees. yet one thing had caught your eye, there was no one by his side clutching onto his arm or holding his hand, giggling at his jokes, or vice versa - making him giggle at their jokes. he was alone. he. was. alone.

park jongseong was alone on prom, unbelievable! maybe you still had a chance to confess to him without making things awkward with his date. who was thankfully non-existent. you had hope, especially since you could see him holding a note in his hand - which you assumed was for you.

once he finally reaches you, a small smile tugs at his lips as he compliments you on your outfit, everyone else far too busy to notice the thick tension between you two.

you compliment him back, earning a chuckle from jay, and you swear you could pass out right then and there!

your eyes dart down to the note he's holding in his hands and he notices the way you bite your lip nervously as your pupils switch between glancing at jay and glancing at his letter.

and jay doesn't know what comes over him at the moment, he simply crumbles the piece of paper that was delicately sitting in-between his fingers and shoves it in his pocket. taking a deep breath in before cupping your face in his hands and leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips.

and when you kiss back, he feels the loud music that was currently blasting through the entire apartment quiet down, the stomping of your peers as they dance and run around matching the beating of your hearts as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

unfortunately, you have lungs and need to breathe LMFAO-

so you pull away to see a dorky smile plastered on jay's face, blush spread across his cheeks as his chest heaves up and down to catch his breath.

"i know it's kind of late but... y/n, would you like to be my prom date? and also maybe my s/o?"

"we literally devoured each others lips like four seconds ago why is that even a question?! of course, i would love to, you idiot!"

제이크 - Jake . . .

i'm just gonna be honest with you, his confession sucked. but it was still adorable. HEAR ME OUT-

he had this whole thing planned out: he would ask jay to drive him to your house, hands full of heart-shaped chocolates and your favorite snacks, a casual but not-so-trashy outfit on as he knocks on your door, gets on one knee, and asks you to be his. BOOM BAM, WHO COULD RESIST THAT?!

well... the thing is, he doesn't even know your address- he doesn't know your favorite snacks either! both he and jay got grounded because they stayed up all night playing video games and their parents had enough of their constant yelling and screaming at 4AM. which meant: no car from jay and no money from his mom.

he decided to buy you at least one of your favorite snacks and take the bus to your house, so he went out of his way to find your friends' phone numbers and message each and every one of them asking about where you live and what you like to eat. which literally freaked them out, because why is an unknown number asking for such... personal information about their friend?!

when he got blocked before he could even explain what was going on, he realized he fucked up big time.

now he's on the phone with sunghoon, complaining about how he messed everything up and probably scared you by sending those creepy messages to your friends. sunghoon just sighs and tells him to confess like a normal person would:

bring you a bouquet of flowers, some chocolate, and ask you to be his s/o WHILE explaining everything in full detail so you didn't feel weirded out.

"oh my god, sunghoon, you're a genius!" "nah man, you're just dumb-"

and he does exactly what sunghoon told him to do. he catches you right before you leave the building and stops you in your tracks, holding out a bouquet of flowers and praying you weren't allergic or something-

"y/n, hey! listen i'm gonna make this quick cuz i know you got places to be. this may sound weird but, i was the one who messaged your friends asking for all those details about you all because i wanted to ask you to be my s/o in the most romantic way possible and-"

you cut him off by pressing your lips against his, pulling away slightly before pecking his cheek and stepping away from him, giggling at his dazed expression.

"so that means you reciprocate my feelings, right?"

성훈 - Sunghoon . . .

you're definitely something else, y/n. who would have thought park sunghoon would be getting excited over some... flowers? he had received them plenty of times before! the bouquets people throw his way after he performs, the thumping of his heart against his ribcage and the cheers and the applause coming from the audience blending together as he walks off the stage and takes his figure skates off. or the ones his family had brought him as soon as he got off the ice rink after yet another outstanding stage. freshly picked dahlias the same shade of red as his cheeks after showing off his skating skills, the aftermath of cold air that had been repeatedly hitting him in the face after hours of practice before the show, and the three minutes he spent on the stage moving oh-so-gently, proving to everyone once again that he is as light as a feather and is fully deserving of the title "ice prince"...

then how come his cheeks aren't red just because of the freezing temperature? in fact, he feels quite warm right now.

he's not too sure why his palms became sweaty the second you approached him, but his hands feel clammy: maybe it's the way you're smiling up at him, eyes full of admiration and pride after attentively watching his every move as he glided against the ice in synch with the song he had chosen just for this performance; or maybe it's the meaning behind the flowers you had picked out for him, red roses... although with a few missing petals, which he had watched tumble down after you quickly shoved them out of your backpack. messy, but cute.

his ears burn at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his as he accepts your roses and promises you that he will take good care of them and will cherish them until their very last petal picks itself away and falls - just like he fell for you.

"sunghoon, you did so well!" - you beam, and he can't help the shy smile that's tugging at his lips, oh god this is embarrassing!

he had just walked off the stage, exhausted and ready to go home yet just one look at you and he's already energized. and the fact that you took your time to come and find him after his performance, arm stretched out as you tighten your grip on the flowers that were previously messily sprawled out in your backpack is far more endearing than it should be, your palm and fingers probably aching from the prickly sensation of the thorns pressing against your soft skin.

"i know you may need more time to think about it and i am in no way shape or form trying to rush you! but i was just wondering... if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?"

he wasted no time, accepting your offer right away as he covered his shy smile with the bouquet of roses, hoping that the red of his ears would blend in with the color of the flowers he was holding and you wouldn't be able to notice the effect you had on him.

park sunghoon has received flowers before, face beet red and heart thumping against his ribcage, the familiar feeling of his hands brushing against someone else's as he takes the neatly wrapped bouquet out of their palms. but this time it's different, this time his heart aches and swells for a completely different reason: for you.

©tyunni please do not copy, translate or repost my work.

taglist: @hyukaas @junityy @uygmoeb @sunghun @krewified @eternallyhyucks @pshjae @marknaeroni @feyregels @yyx2 @koishua @kac-chowsballs @echo-of-a-writer @w3bqrl @liz-riz @duolingofanaccount @goldenhypen @sungniverse @enhasimpeu @sieuneo @acciomylove @soobin-chois @anik-4 (bold means i can’t mention you, if you want to be a part of my taglist fill this out!!)

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen hyung line #enhypen hyung line x reader #enhypennetwork #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen heeseung #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #ni-ki #jungwon #sunoo #enha #enha x reader #enha x gn!reader

[piggy-i-broke-the-conch]

Lord of the Flies manuscript- an overview

Preamble:

(if you don’t care about this, I start talking about the actual manuscript under the cut. but be warned- it is very long)

So as some of you know if you've been following my blog, I have been wanting to go and see the original first draft of Lord of the Flies (handwritten by William Golding in a college notebook and currently held by the University of Exeter's special collections here in the UK) for a really long time now! It took a while, but today I finally went! I'm sure a lot of you are curious about how it differs from the final book so I decided to put together a list of things I noticed. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to quote anything from the manuscript verbatim due to copyright restrictions, but I'll try my best to tell you what I can without getting into legal trouble (hopefully). Also, I only managed to get through the first 7 chapters before the library closed (I'm truly devastated) partly because I struggled a lot to decipher Golding's very messy handwriting and also just because I'm not a very fast reader and I only had about 5 hours with the manuscript, so I'll just be talking about what I've read so far. I plan on returning in the summer to see the rest so there will be a part 2 to this post eventually!

Also also, at the time of posting it is 3am and I am too tired to proofread this properly so apologies in advance for any mistakes.

Now, onto the part of the post you actually care about- talking about the manuscript!

The majority of differences between the original and final versions (which I'll be referring to as OV and FV respectively throughout the rest of this post) are just minor changes to phrasing and fixes of grammatical errors, but there are a few more pronounced differences which caught my interest. This post will be split into two sections, one for smaller differences which I found particularly interesting and one for major differences which greatly affect the story and characters.

A note on the typescript:

As well as looking at the original LotF manuscript (the handwritten one), I also had the chance to look at a typescript (a later version of the manuscript typed out on a typewriter) while I was there. The typescript is a lot more similar to the FV than the OV so there isn't as much to say about it, but there are still a few interesting things in there which I ought to mention so you'll see me bring it up from time to time. Some major aspects of the OV stuck around for quite a long time before eventually being cut from the FV (although many had already been toned down quite a lot by the time the typescript was made, I'll elaborate later on). You can see that someone has marked the typescript, crossing out references to these features as well as fixing some more phrasing and grammar errors. I'm not sure who did this as while some of the annotations appear to be in Golding's handwriting, others are not. It was most likely a collaborative effort between Golding and his editor, though.

Now that that's cleared up, let's move on to the differences between these versions of the novel!

Smaller differences:

• Some minor characters had different names in the OV. Johnny (the littlun who likes to bully Percival) was originally called Jamie, and Henry (mulberry kid's cousin who also likes to bully Percival) interestingly had a surname, going by Henry Williams

• I'm not completely sure about this one because I couldn't make out everything Golding was saying due to his handwriting, but I don't think Jack's eye colour is mentioned at all in the OV while it comes up quite a few times in the FV. This interested me because I have a vague theory that Johnny is supposed to parallel Jack, which is why they both have blue eyes (no one else's eye colour is mentioned in the book) and their names are both diminutives of John, so I found it intriguing that Johnny's name and Jack's eye colour were added in later. It's a very minor detail so not necessarily what Golding was going for, but cool either way.

• This is kind of the opposite, but while Jack's physical appearance is described a bit less in the OV, Roger's is described a bit more. His skin tone is said to be olive and he has a lean face. His facial expressions are also a bit... weird, but I'll expand on this later

• Percival's address is slightly different from the FV, with his street name being St Michael instead of St Anthony

• Some lines of dialogue are said by different characters in the OV- for example, in the FV's chapter 2 Maurice suggests that the boys should put green branches on the fire to make more smoke, but in the OV Roger is the one who says this

• Similarly, some actions are performed by different characters in the OV- Simon is actually the one who calms the littluns down by making them laugh in chapter 5 instead of Maurice (speaking of which, I think Golding didn't quite know what to do with Maurice at first since he seems a little bit inconsistent to me in the OV and the lines of dialogue attributed to him are almost random at times. I'm happy that Golding later made him into a more consistent comic relief character)

• Some lines that aren't attributed to any specific character in the FV are given to specific characters in the OV- for example, the person who suggests that the choir could be an army in chapter 1 is said to be Roger in the OV (can you tell i was interested in Roger's dialogue in particular?)

• Ralph's age is slightly different- he is 12 years and 1 month old in the OV, while in the FV he is 12 years and several months old. I'm not sure why Golding made this change, but it might be to make Ralph's age less specific.

• Simon is said to be 9 years old, while in the FV his age is never specified

• Piggy's accent is more exaggerated in the OV- for example, every 'h' at the start of a word is replaced with an apostrophe (e.g.- 'is instead of his). This makes his dialogue very hard to read at times, which is probably why these instances have been crossed out and replaced with regular spelling in the typescript.

• When Jack talks about who doesn't deserve to speak at meetings in chapter 6, he includes Piggy and Roger in the OV but not in the FV (i just find it funny that he insults Roger here, don't ask why)

• Another funny one, this time from chapter 5. While arguing about what the beast is, the argument suddenly shifts to whether there are ghosts in the Bible and whether Jesus is a ghost or not. This argument culminates in Jack essentially accusing Piggy of being an atheist, which is treated as being very scandalous

• If you've done a bit of digging into LotF or studied it at school, you might know that an alternate title for the book before it was published was 'Strangers From Within'. The typescript goes by another alternate title- 'This Island's Mine'. However, the title was crossed out on the typescript and had been replaced with the familiar 'Lord of the Flies'

Major differences:

Ok, this is the part I'm most excited to write about. Some of these major differences are already public knowledge (I knew about a lot of them before I checked out the manuscript, and I've talked about some of them on my blog before), but I'll try to elaborate a bit more on these as well as talking about some others

The first chapter:

As I've mentioned on this blog several times in the past, the reason I was so excited about seeing this manuscript is that there is an additional chapter at the start of the OV which expands on the events leading up to Ralph climbing down the rock at the start of the FV, including the plane crash. However, I found out that this isn't actually an additional chapter but an extended version of the first chapter in the FV. This means that the original first chapter is very long, which is actually a big part of the reason why LotF was rejected by so many publishers at first since most didn't read past the first chapter and so didn't really get into the plot of the novel. The extended part of the chapter has been cut entirely from the typescript, which makes sense. Personally I think the original first chapter drags on a lot and probably wouldn't be too interesting to the average reader, but it was interesting to me since it gave me some valuable extra info about the characters I've grown to love over the years.

Here are some of the key things I found:

• As mentioned by Piggy in chapter 1 of the FV, an atom bomb was dropped on England which seemingly destroyed it

• The novel takes place during a fictional war between England (and possibly others) and the 'Reds' (quote from the FV, although a similar name is used in the OV). I believe this is likely referring to the USSR but I couldn't find any solid evidence

• The boys had been on the plane for 10 days prior to the crash, stopping in a number of countries along the way (chapter 1 of the FV reveals that Simon fainted in a lot of them)

• There is a lot of detail about the boys' feelings during the journey and subsequent crash. The crash is described in full, with quite horrific detail at times-we see the boys screaming and panicking as the plane goes down

• Eventually one boy (I'm not sure if Golding gave any details hinting at which boy it was due to the handwriting thing again, but my theory is either Ralph or Piggy) pulled on the emergency lever, allowing the remaining boys to escape from the burning plane

• After the crash, we see the boys all collapsing and falling asleep in the scar left behind by the plane followed by them exploring the scar/jungle in the daytime and searching for food

• The rest of the chapter follows Ralph specifically. We see a lot of him running around and having fun as he eats fruit and explores

• Interestingly, several scenes involving Ralph having fun in the first chapter were crossed out in the OV, including the whole scene where Ralph discovers Piggy's nickname and the one where they swim in the lagoon (although both of these did make it into the FV virtually unchanged). There is a note from Golding by the former scene which suggests he was not sure if Ralph was being too casual about the situation or not, although it seems that eventually he decided it was fine and kept Ralph's characterisation the same

The Coral Island:

This one is another thing I've talked about on the blog before. Lord of the Flies is essentially a fanfiction of a book called The Coral Island by R.M. Ballantyne, which is an adventure story from the 19th century about three teenage boys/young adults getting shipwrecked on a tropical island and converting the local 'savages' to Christianity (it is very racist as you can imagine). From what I've heard, Golding wrote LotF partly out of spite because he felt that TCI was inaccurate and boys wouldn't get along as well as the ones in that book in reality. He also made fun of the imperialism in TCI, with the posh white British boys being the ones who end up becoming savages in LotF.

TCI is name dropped twice in the FV, but it is brought up a lot more in the OV and has a major influence on Ralph's character. To put it simply, Ralph is a huge TCI fanboy. His obsession with TCI actually quite closely mirrors my own obsession with LotF- he's almost memorised the book, thinks about it all the time, and wants to be friends with the characters. I have a lot of examples of Ralph's obsession which I want to talk about so I'll put them into a list to make things easier:

• Ralph's motivation for climbing the rock at the very start of the FV is because the TCI characters do something similar shortly after they get stranded on their island

• Ralph compares the TCI trio with himself, Jack and Simon very frequently throughout the OV. He considers himself to be like TCI Ralph (yes they have the same name, Jack also has the same name as one of the TCI trio) and actively seeks out the remaining members of the trio even before he meets the other boys on the island. Essentially he wants to live out the novel in real life and wants idealised companions that he can rely on and have a sense of camaraderie with. Because of this he really romanticises his situation and becomes very attached to his relationships with Jack and Simon (but also very disappointed when they don't live up to his expectations)

• When Ralph finds out Jack's first name, he becomes really excited just because he has the same name as TCI Jack and automatically considers the two of them to be part of the same trio

• He decides that Simon is Peterkin (the last boy in the TCI trio) for basically no reason. He just looks at him and feels the two are alike without knowing why, although he is disappointed that he couldn't find someone with the same name as Peterkin to complete the trio

• When Ralph says he wants three boys to go up the mountain in chapter 1, he blushes and the other boys don't understand why- it's because he's thinking about recreating a scene from TCI again

• In chapter 3, the 'He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were' line from the FV is replaced with an explanation that Ralph is sad that Jack and Simon aren't actually that much like their TCI counterparts, with Jack being too invested in hunting (instead of being the responsible, mature leader who cares deeply for his companions' wellbeing like TCI Jack) and Simon being too quiet and good-natured (while Peterkin is a very adventurous and mischievous character)

• Similarly, when Ralph says 'Only-' and cuts himself off in the FV, in the OV this is followed by an explanation that he wanted to tell Jack about how Simon doesn't live up to his expectations but (I assume at least) he didn't think Jack would understand

• One of Ralph's dream sequences (I think the one where he thinks about the wild ponies in his back garden in the FV? the first one anyway) is different in the OV. Instead of thinking about his childhood, he dreams that his father appears on the beach and they have a conversation about the island. I found it interesting that Ralph's dad gets dialogue here (even if it is in a dream) since he doesn't in the FV. One funny thing from this conversation is that Ralph's dad essentially tells Ralph the onion thing from Shrek except with bananas instead of onions (as in, he calls Jack and Simon bananas and says that Ralph needs to peel them in order to find what he wants, aka his ideal companions/TCI Jack and Peterkin). When he says this, Ralph sees Jack and Simon smiling at him on the beach

While the majority of these things are already omitted from the typescript, quite a few references to The Coral Island remain (although almost all of these have been crossed out by- probably- the editor). Several have annotations above them which replace the TCI references with lines that appear in the final version, which makes me think that these changes came quite late in the editing process.

The fourth chapter:

So originally I was going to scatter the things I'll cover here across different sections, but since they all take place in the same chapter I decided to just put them together. The main interesting thing in the OV of this chapter is Roger's characterisation. As well as being portrayed quite differently in his scene at the start of the chapter (the one where he bullies small children/ throws rocks at Henry), he also gets an additional scene at the end of the chapter which was cut from the FV. I was pretty surprised about the additional scene to be honest, I wasn't expecting that to be there since chapter 4 sort of phases into chapter 5 in the FV and it seems to flow quite well so I didn't imagine another scene being stuck in the middle of it. This is probably why the extra scene was cut though.

Okay, let's talk about OV Roger:

• As I mentioned much earlier in the post, Roger makes a lot of weird facial expressions during his scene with Henry. He is described as looking like he is in pain several times while watching the littluns on the beach, with his pain seeming to intensify into an expression of agony as he stalks Henry. I don't get why he was supposed to look like he was in pain here? but cool that we get to see more of his emotions I guess

• Continuing with this theme, Roger's excitement at throwing rocks at Henry is described in much more detail in the OV. He goes from a state of extreme pain to a state of extreme ecstasy very quickly. His mouth is also described as moving in a way I didn't really grasp (because of the handwriting I couldn't read half of it)- I think he might have been smiling creepily but it's hard to tell, maybe he was holding back a smile or something else. To be honest I was just imagining him making Kira expressions (from death note, look it up) the whole time.

• We also get more intense descriptions of Roger's physical reactions to this scene. In the FV, after retreating behind a palm tree to avoid being caught by Henry, he is 'breathing quickly, eyes fluttering'. It's hard to describe without quoting directly from the text, but basically in the OV his reaction seems more drawn out- he's breathless, his heart is pounding, he's exhilarated and maybe a little afraid. My point is that this Roger is much more emotive than the one in the FV, who expresses his emotions very subtly (e.g.- through a slight movement of his eyes or a shadow crossing his face). Personally I prefer FV Roger much more, being very apathetic and hard to read fits his character a lot better imo. I guess both are creepy in different ways though.

• Okay, the extra scene. Basically Roger leaves the others while they are all gathered around the fire eating meat and goes down to the beach to continue what he was doing at the start of the chapter. He doesn't find any children to bully, so instead he starts murdering limpets with a rock. He makes it into a twisted game, seeing how many times he can hit them before they die. It reminded me a lot of Roger Elwin (Roger's actor from the 1963 movie adaptation of LotF), who used to throw lizards into a fan to see how many pieces they would be cut into. Life imitates art and all that. Anyway, this scene just sort of ends and cuts very abruptly to the start of chapter 5 (which is similar to the FV). While I do think that starting and ending the chapter with scenes involving Roger is quite interesting, like I said before I definitely think that the transition from chapter 4 to chapter 5 in the FV flows a lot better and really maintains the tension established throughout the chapter (which I will be talking about a bit more later...)

• I should also add that at some point during the scene with the fire there is an author's note that mentions Roger (again I can't directly quote it, but essentially it asks what he is supposed to be doing during this scene). At first I thought he may have been intended to have some dialogue during the argument between Jack and Ralph, but now I think this author's note may be referring to the extra scene at the end

As you can probably tell, I like Roger and he is very interesting in this chapter. It's funny because I hated him for a long time but suddenly my opinion did a 180 and now I like him. Or I find him interesting, at least. Maybe I don't like him that much as a person haha. Anyway, on to the other interesting things in this chapter, because there are quite a few:

• Ralph cries during the 'they let the bloody fire out' scene. This was interesting to me because in the FV he only cries once in the entire book (right at the end), so it's interesting that he is allowed to cry here too in the OV. Simon and Piggy also cry during this scene.

• Jack realises how badly he fucked up (to put it plainly) when he sees Ralph's tears in the OV (instead of his 'scarred nakedness' as in the final version) and thinks to himself that they are the tears of an adult, not a child. I actually like this a lot better than the FV since it has more of an emotional impact and really highlights Ralph's despair and desperation in this situation. On the other hand, I do quite like him only crying once in the FV since it gives that scene more weight- both are good.

• Another place where I greatly prefer the FV of this chapter over the OV is that the tension between Ralph and Jack, particularly Ralph's anger towards Jack (and also Jack's resentment towards Piggy), is much more pronounced in the FV. Instead of the scene where Jack refuses to give Piggy meat which we get in the FV, Piggy just takes meat and sits with the others. It is even mentioned in the narration that he is being included for once. Also, there is a cute moment where Jack and Ralph smile at each other and feel like friends again. Basically it's a lot more wholesome in the OV, which is nice for sentimental fanboys like me who just want to see everyone get along, but not so great for the actual story given that this event is supposed to very nearly destroy Jack and Ralph's friendship completely (and certainly it still plays a big part in this even if it takes a little longer for their friendship to fully fall apart)

Simon:

Alright, onto the part I've been most excited to share with you guys. I wanted to put this section last, but something I'm going to talk about in the next section kind of needs the context from this one to be fully appreciated so it will have to be the penultimate section instead. This is another one of those major changes which is public knowledge, but essentially Simon is a very different character in the OV compared to the FV. While the FV gently hints at Simon having a deeper spiritual significance (aka being Jesus), this is placed front and centre in the OV with Simon being a deeply spiritual and contemplative, something philosophical, individual who has occasional prophetic visions and is basically clairvoyant.

Let's go over Simon in a bit more detail:

• Like in the FV, Simon has a very close connection to nature. When Jack and Ralph first talk about hunting in chapter 1, Simon expresses sadness that they would waste the natural beauty of the island. In addition, it is mentioned that he knows a lot about different types of animals and plants

• In fact, Simon is described as having a lot of knowledge in general. Many passages relating to him talk a lot about knowing and seeing things, possibly relating to him being some sort of prophet/visionary

• Golding spends much more time exploring Simon's perspective on events and characters throughout the OV. He contemplates major themes of the novel like morality and human nature, and in chapters 3 and 7 he analyses Jack and Ralph in great detail. I'll save what he says about Ralph for later because it is very interesting, but I will say that he shows disappointment in Jack's growing madness and bloodlust and appears to feel a lot of pity for him.

• He also mentions in chapter 3 (during one of these long scenes of him thinking about stuff) that he understands Jack's fear and feelings of being hunted while he is in the jungle alone, foreshadowing his own death scene.

There are two major things I want to say about Simon in the OV which are going to require their own subsections. The first is another additional scene which replaces the scene where Simon sits alone in the jungle and looks at the candle buds at the end of chapter 3 (actually the candle buds aren't mentioned at all in the OV, which made me a bit sad because I like them). This scene is much longer than its replacement and leans very heavily into Simon's spiritual/visionary side, but I'll go into that shortly. The other thing is Simon's relationship with Ralph, which is delved into in much more detail compared to the FV and reveals some very interesting things about both characters.

The vision:

• When Simon leaves Jack and Ralph near the end of chapter 3, he retreats into jungle as he does in the FV. From this point, things become very different from the FV. Simon spends some time contemplating Jack and Ralph before he suddenly faints and enters a dream sequence/prophetic vision which continues for the test of the chapter.

• In the vision, Simon dances with a group of littluns who follow him around and try to copy his movements (it's very cute). He then picks up the conch and calls an assembly, during which everyone joins in with the dance. I found this interesting because in the FV only Ralph and, on one occasion, Jack blow the conch. Since Ralph's relationships with both Jack and Simon are given prominence in the OV (because of all the coral island stuff), it makes sense that Simon gets to blow the conch too even if it's only in a dream sequence.

• After dancing for a while, Jack gets bored and breaks away from the group. He runs off down the beach, prompting a lot of the other boys to follow him. They all race each other down the beach. Simon starts to freak out as he watches more and more boys start running off, screaming for them to stop and really panicking. Eventually he just stares after them with resignation, feeling particularly sad upon seeing Ralph chase after Jack with the others.

As you can probably tell, this scene quite heavily foreshadows Simon's death. There are also a lot of references to the Bible which I didn't mention here (I think Jesus might show up at one point? there's also something about forbidden fruit and Eden). To be honest this scene was a nightmare to get through since Golding's handwriting made it so hard to understand, especially since it was like an acid trip to begin with. I did my best to summarise it for you but there's probably a lot of stuff that I missed.

Ralph:

Oh God, Simon and Ralph. I have been itching to talk about them since I first saw the manuscript. Let's get right into it:

• In Chapter 3 (a bit before the vision scene), Simon thinks for a long time about Ralph and Jack. He seems to almost venerate Ralph at times, seeing him as this very idealised but also very tragic figure. Simon feels intense affection for Ralph to the point of it bordering on devotion but also intense pity for him.

• As you might have guessed by now, Simon is canonically, explicitly in love with Ralph in the OV. I was genuinely shocked by this when I saw it for the first time as I didn't think Golding would go beyond hinting at it as he does in the FV. While I can't quote anything directly so you kind of have to just take my word for it, it does say that he loves Ralph multiple times in the OV. I wasn't quite sure if this was meant to be more of a spiritual love like the love that Jesus feels for people or a romantic love, but I think it is supposed to be read both ways. I believe it's relevant to mention that when thinking about Jack in chapter 3, Simon claims to like and admire him equally as much as Ralph but does not ramble about him nearly as much and doesn't say he loves him.

• During the scene where Simon bashes into a tree after 'he ceased to think about himself', it explicitly says in the OV that he is thinking intently about Ralph. He mentions his pity for Ralph as well as his love, which is described as being overwhelmingly intense.

• There is also a lot of physical contact between Ralph and Simon throughout the OV, with Simon often touching Ralph's arms. He does this during the fire scene to comfort him while they both cry, and again in the scene with the tree while trying to persuade Ralph that he doesn't believe in the beast/trying to redeem himself in Ralph's eyes after the humiliation of the meeting in chapter 5. Simon also touches Ralph's arms in the FV but not as often

Several of Simon's more contemplative/philosophical passages are still present in the typescript but have been crossed out, while the entire vision scene has already been replaced with the candle bud scene. It seems that Simon's spiritual side was steadily toned down until eventually it was almost entirely removed from the character. Personally I like FV Simon as he feels a bit more realistic, but I find OV Simon really interesting as well and I like that we get to see more of his thoughts and feelings. Simon's feelings for Ralph are also greatly toned down, and some passages relating to their relationship have been crossed out and edited in the typescript as welI. I wonder if this was censorship from the editor or if Golding just felt that it didn't fit the FV as much? Anyway, I always felt that the trio of Jack, Ralph and Simon should have been explored a bit more since they are set up to be close friends in chapter 1 and Ralph is thinking of them when he starts crying in the final scene, so I like that the OV included some more of this. I do really like the Ralph/Simon/Piggy trio (or the three blind mice as I call them) though so I don't mind the FV placing more emphasis on that.

The seventh chapter:

We finally come to the last chapter I managed to read before I got kicked out of the library. Again, I fully plan on returning later this year to see the rest so I can hopefully tell you guys about the second half of the manuscript in the relatively near future. I'm particularly interested in seeing the interaction between Simon and the pig head/Lord of the Flies, how the manuscript ends and Simon and Piggy's death scenes. I already know about some slight differences to the ending and Piggy's death scene so I'm really excited to see what else this manuscript has in store for me.

But for now, let's talk about chapter 7:

• This is a very minor thing but Jack is described as being flushed when he says the 'Couldn't let you do it on your own' line to Ralph while this isn't mentioned in the FV. It could be due to exertion, but I like the idea that he was embarrassed. This is a bit of a side note, but I was quite surprised to see that not much really changed about Jack between the OV and the FV. He is sometimes a bit friendlier to Ralph and occasionally Piggy but that's the only thing I really noticed. Jack is by far my favourite LotF character so I was hoping I'd have a lot to say about him, but compared to characters who change quite drastically between versions like Ralph, Simon and Roger, he is pretty consistent. This is speculation of course, but my take is that Golding had a pretty clear idea of what he wanted to do with Jack from the beginning. I've heard that Jack was inspired by Golding himself as a teenager, so maybe that's why he had a better idea of what his character was going to be like compared to some of the others.

• The most interesting part of this chapter for me is the 'You'll get back alright' scene between Ralph and Simon. Now this scene does not actually appear in the OV, although there are two author's notes which refer to it- one at the end of chapter 6, and another near the start of chapter 7, where the scene ended up being placed in the FV. My theory is that Golding knew he wanted this scene to take place but hadn't decided whereabouts it should go, so he added it in in a later draft. At first I was disappointed that I couldn't see how this scene was different since it's one of my favourites in the book, but when I glanced over at the typescript I was surprised to find an extended version of the scene there!

• The extended scene (which has also been heavily crossed out and reworded in places) delves a bit more into Ralph and Simon's thoughts, with Simon trying to assess what effect his words are having on Ralph whereas Ralph is unsure whether to believe him or not. Simon also comments on the others calling him batty and seems hurt that Ralph doesn't believe his words because he was humiliated at the chapter 5 meeting, while in the FV he just says 'No, I'm not' in response to Ralph calling him batty and doesn't react to it beyond that. Actually speaking of which, OV Simon seems to be a bit more insecure than FV Simon (or at least we see his insecurities more clearly because his thoughts are explored much more often). In chapter 3 he self-deprecatingly describes himself as a weak boy who has fits in contrast to his idealised image of Ralph. I'm getting a bit side-tracked though, so let's move on.

• At the end of Ralph and Simon's conversation in the typescript, Ralph asks Simon if the others will also get back alright. Simon just smiles and says they will. After this, Ralph thinks to himself that despite still thinking Simon is batty, he feels strangely comforted by his words. It's very wholesome and gives their relationship a bit more depth I think, although of course the FV of the scene also does this to an extent.

• Another very minor thing but Simon is blushing while they have this conversation and I think it's cute. We are blessed with so much wholesome Simon in this version, it's great.

• The final thing I'm going to talk about is a very tiny extra scene (or part of a scene since it's only like a paragraph long) which appears in place of the 'You'll get back alright' scene in the OV. In this scene Ralph eats a bunch of fruit, then Jack shows up and eats some with him. It's described in a bit of a grotesque manner, possibly to show how they've become less civilised since they arrived on the island but I don't know. They talk for a short while about how they want to catch fish and hunt, and again they seem to bond a little bit before Roger shows up abruptly and calls Jack away. I do find it interesting that he specifically calls Jack away in this version, while in the FV he just shouts 'Come and see!' without specifying who he is calling.

Closing words:

And that's it! Can you believe this isn't even everything I made notes on? A lot of the other stuff was just stuff I wasn't sure if I could mention or not due to copyright as well as lots of Coral Island references (seriously there are so many I couldn't be bothered to list them all).

Thank you so much for sticking with me to the end, and I hope you found this as interesting/enlightening as I did! If you want to ask me anything about the different versions of the text or need me to elaborate on anything I covered in the post (or if you just want to talk LotF), feel free to send me an ask or DM me on my main acc (@earl-grey-by-the-lake) and I'll try to answer as best as I can!

Okay, after spending 10 hours on a train, 5 hours trying to decipher almost illegible handwriting and giving myself a headache in the process, and a further maybe 8 to 10 hours writing up notes, fact-checking and composing this post (all over the course of 3 days and while sick), I am going to finally get some sleep. Thank you again for reading, and hopefully I'll have some more things to share with you soon!

#lotf #lord of the flies #books #lotf manuscript #i can't believe i've put so much mental energy into this book #and physical energy #please don't sue me for this i'm so sorry #lotf jack #lotf ralph #lotf simon #lotf roger #lotf maurice #lotf piggy #long post #really long post #the coral island #lotf ralmon #ralmon #ralmon is salmon #losing my mind over ralmon being canon in the ov #i'm sorry #for everything #classic lit #classic literature #why are these tags so unhinged

[teamxdark]

He’s Not Here

More masquerade content but what’s this at the end???

In the grand castle ballroom, surrounded by soft golden light and the countless nobles clad in shimmering fabric, King Arthur was so bored he could cry.

This wasn’t what this night should have been; it was a masquerade party, an opportunity to hide away his identity and mingle among the people 一 okay, the nobility, but he would take what he could get 一 like he was a person instead of a king. Finally he had a chance to dance around until his legs ached, to eat food without worrying about the repercussions to his image should he dare speak with his mouth full or use the wrong spoon, to hold conversations that weren’t about politics or finances or how he was doing the best-or-worst job looking after an entire kingdom with a myriad of people with different needs and opinions. 

So how was it that, out of everyone in that room, he was stuck listening to some dull-voiced stag drone on and on about the rising price of grain?

“This is why pricing is tricky, you have to account for the pests before you ship it out and…”

Arthur fought the urge to dash away, but the instant he tried, he knew he would give himself away. His speed was renowned throughout the land, alongside his golden armor and brilliant blue spines. Those, at least, he had taken care of; Merlina had spent the better part of an hour adjusting his coloring to a warm orange and growing out his spines to disguise him beyond the limits of a simple mask. She had tried so hard to give him a chance to have a night off without people instantly worrying for his favor or trying to get something from him… only for him to be trapped all over again.

Arthur would have happily made an excuse to leave, if the stag would only let him get a single word in. His conversation “partner” seemed not to need to breathe, droning on and on in an endless monotone, offset by the cheerful music and bright lights and flashy costumes.

I’ll never be free of this.

“And now that the price is rising, it leaves me in a strange spot, you see. On the one hand, I sympathize with the people who cannot afford my wares, but on the other hand, it means more profit for myself and my own family.”

Chaos above, Arthur wished he hadn’t bumped into this man. His fingers tapped restlessly against his leg, mildly quelling the urge he had to just flee, to drop everything and everyone he had ever known and flee into the night and into the unknown.

“Not to mention, the cost of labor--”

“Mind if I cut in?”

Arthur’s head snapped over to the new voice, endlessly relieved at the interruption, though the stag continued to drone on, the odious voice still grating his ears even as the king faced the bold newcomer.

It was a tiger clad in elegant black clothing with silver accents, extending a hand out to him, and even though Arthur was eager to take it and be whisked away from this living nightmare, something about him made him take pause. His eyes took in the white fur streaked with blue, the slowly flicking tail that reminded him of Sir Percival 一 was it common among all cats? 一 and the eyes looking gently back at him.

He trusted those eyes. It was the look that they held, a look that reminded him of… 

Arthur mentally slapped himself. He’s not here, he reminded himself as he finally took the hand offered to him.

“Yes, please.”

The tiger seemed to brighten just a fraction at his approval, and he led him away from the trappings of boring conversation to the dancefloor, and Arthur had to try hard not to think about how this felt like being rescued by a knight. Especially not…

He’s not here.

The king was jostled from his thoughts as his new partner started to fit him into a hold, and a brand new anxiety washed down upon him as he tried to remember how to reciprocate the hold. Dancing lessons had never been high on the list of priorities when it came to running a kingdom, and yet somehow Arthur was expected to be able to social dance like a pro when his days were filled from dawn to dusk with meetings and drafting decrees and submitting notices of approval until he passed out on his bed. Arthur swallowed, trying to remind himself that stumbling during a dance was still preferable to listening to that one-sided conversation…

...but his partner didn’t dance like a professional. Well… he did, there was no denying his grace and timing, but he didn’t dance like he expected Arthur to be one as well. The steps were simple, the turns basic, and Arthur’s mind swam in relief as he realized that, somehow, this stranger was leading him through steps that he had managed to pick up on through trial and error.

This chance encounter was proving to be everything he needed.

The stranger led him carefully around the floor, maneuvering slowly around other people rather than weaving expertly between them like so many other couples did. If Arthur closed his eyes, he could easily pretend that he was practicing his basic steps with his brother, or his friends, or his--

He’s not here.

And yet…

Yet it was so easy to picture it, even as the peals of laughter surrounded him and washed into his subconsciousness like a spark of delight for him to enjoy. The strong hold, the careful footwork, the calculated rhythm…

Lancelot…

Arthur’s eyes opened, and though he saw stripes they were the wrong ones, and the bittersweet feeling of missing someone dear to him almost caused him to heave a sigh.

He had it bad, and he knew it. His greatest knight and closest ally and dear friend… Sir Lancelot was beyond compare. From questing as youths to his coronation, and in every disaster thereafter, Lancelot had been there, his pillar of strength in a tumultuous world, always standing nearby to passionately defend him or to spare him a quiet gesture of support. Lancelot had protected him from danger, defended his honor, strived to keep his spirits up for years and years…

Arthur had never considered himself one for romance, but as years went by, Lancelot had claimed more and more of his thoughts, attention and affection until the knight unknowingly held the king’s heart firmly in his hands. Too many times to count had Arthur been struck by the urge to grasp his hands, to sing out the words in his heart to him, to draw him close and see if he could make such a powerful knight’s knees buckle below him with a kiss alone…

One song changed into the next, and Arthur, too swept up in his fantasy, didn’t let go of the stranger, didn’t notice the slight lull in their dance, and so the dream kept going.

Lancelot wasn’t there, but Arthur could lean into this stranger’s hold on him, follow his dance, focus on his attire, concentrate on the energy he exuded, energy that reminded him so strongly of his Lancelot, and Arthur’s mind could so easily turn his dream into something more substantial. An illusion for him to drown in, just like this masquerade offered.

The music kept swelling, the sweet notes tickling his ears and driving him even deeper into his dream like he was in a trance. He kept dancing with the man that reminded him so much of his beloved that a second dance turned into a third, and Arthur clung on to his dream, not even registering that it might seem strange until--

“I mean no offense, but surely there are others who would want to dance with you?”

Arthur blinked, and the dream shattered as the man in his arms shifted back into a stranger. The king’s feet stilled, his gaze dropping to his feet. Arthur had to fight back waves of embarrassment and disgust at himself before he could answer.

“Forgive me, but the way you dance…”

HE’S NOT HERE!

“...it reminds me of someone dear to me.”

“O-Oh.”

His companion seemed at a loss, and Arthur held back another sigh, counting the beats in his head before pulling him along for the next dance, leading him in a very basic, repetitive step around the floor.

“I apologize,” Arthur murmured, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to salvage the situation. At this point, he could only offer his apologies and an explanation. “I know it’s not fair on you, to imagine you are someone else, but…”

A look of hurt passed over his dance partner’s face, and goodness, even that reminded him painfully of Lancelot.

“...but you remind me so much of him.”

Arthur’s eyes swept over his partner, taking in the paradoxical way that he looked completely unfamiliar and yet he still somehow managed to feel so much like his dear knight. Perhaps the dream hadn’t fled from him quite yet, because now Arthur’s yearning mind was searching for any and every chance to convince himself that this was, somehow, Lancelot whom he was dancing with.

“You dance like he does,” Arthur thought aloud, as his partner remained silent. “Careful and precise.”

Your movements… I know them like I know my own.

“Pardon my asking,” the stranger returned, “but why do you not dance with him tonight?”

Like a weight to his soul that would never truly leave, Arthur’s melancholy came back to embrace him. “Ah… he isn’t here.”

He’s not here he’s not here he’s not here--

“Or at least…”

Arthur looked into the stranger’s eyes, his desperation to go back to his dream nearly choking him with emotion as the tiger’s eyes widened at the sudden look directed at him.

“...I haven’t recognized him, yet.”

Arthur knew it was terrible to put such a fantasy on a stranger at a party, but he wanted so badly to believe that this man was Lancelot. Arthur wanted to believe the ludicrous ideas his mind was supplying him with, that somehow this was Lancelot in front of him, disguised beyond all normal means. The tiger in front of him appeared to fluster, his mouth parting as though wishing to speak, though no words came forth.

“You have stripes like he does, too,” Arthur murmured softly, thoughtfully, and yes, he truly was reaching for every last detail in his pathetic attempt to turn what he had in front of him into what he wanted to see.

“If it pleases you,” the tiger finally said as the third song changed into a fourth one, “I… am not opposed to you pretending that I am he.”

Arthur smiled at that, feeling suddenly hesitant at the idea, now that the stranger, as kind and helpful as he had been, had given him his consent to mentally transform him into someone else, to be a player in this dream of his. It was sad, and unfair, but Arthur knew sadness and injustice. He tried to battle it every day, slowly changing and updating laws as they became outdated, but everything went so slowly and people only kept crying out in pain and Arthur wanted just one day, just one, to take ahold of something that he wanted and to cherish it.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered as he stepped further into the stranger’s hold, feeling warmth overtake him as he confessed his truth. “I have loved him for a great long time and… perhaps this is the closest I shall get to what I dream of.”

Because that was all this would ever be: a dream.

He’s not here.

Arthur’s eyes closed as his head dipped down to rest on the tiger’s shoulder, a soft smile spreading over his muzzle as he noticed that he was of a similar height to Lancelot, and the dream came back in full swing. Arthur’s arms wrapped around his partner, blocking out any consideration to the lack of spines on his back, and the king focused on his heartbeat as it hammered in and out of sync with the other’s.

“I understand the sentiment,” his partner whispered in response, and Arthur had to hold back what was either a laugh or a sob, morphing it into a hum on its way out.

You speak like him, too.

And so the king held his partner as tightly and tenderly as he would a lover, humming along to the song as the masquerade around him faded into nothing. There was nothing, nothing in his dream, but himself and his Lancelot as they spun around slowly.

He’s here. He’s here, I can feel it.

Arthur’s dream permeated his mind, overtaking his consciousness, and as the fourth song faded into oblivion, he finally let out the sigh he had been carrying all night.

“Lancelot…”

Two pairs of feet stilled as both parties realized what had just been said, and one final word jolted the king from his dream.

“A… Arthur?”

He was here all along.

#Smash speaks. #Arthurlot. #satbk #I DID IT I WROTE SOMETHING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. #No editing we write and post and pass out.

[annlillyjose]

stray ghosts sleep on lily pads - update one

hey there! long time no see. and by long time i mean, a loooooong time. college happened and then mental health happened, so here we are, months later, much different. but all these months haven't gone to waste (at least not fully) because i've just finished drafting my first ever poetry collection. rants towards the end, on to the update.

disclaimer: this is my original work. plagiarism of any kind will not be tolerated.

list of poems and taglist under the cut.

the basics

collection title: stray ghosts sleep on lily pads

starting date: 11 september 2021

ending date: 14 april 2022

total number of poems: 43

stray ghosts sleep on lily pads is a collection of mostly personal poetry that revolves around topics like identity, self-revelation, acceptance, finding one’s place in this world, the search for solace in brokenness, teenage angst, existentialism, mental health, etc. it is divided into six parts - each dealing with a separate theme. parts, their themes, and the poems in them are outlined below.

part one - eulogy gateway

eulogy gateway is about being a writer - the writing craft and the writing experience. it discusses what the words we pen down mean, what the clauses convey, and what the phrases hide behind their letters.

poems

eat nothing, eat it raw

writer's guide to expression

to write is to earn your last bread before the end

apology letter to non-readers

part two - egg entity

egg entity discusses the female experience in detail. predominant themes include sexual assault, body autonomy, beauty standards, the post-colonial narrative, etc.

poems

a god is no god in the water

wolfpack whispers

the treaty of desirability

botany lessons in a crimson dress

to see my clenched fist is to see my cry for help

what the void of a ghost sounds like

woman buries the girl she was

part three - sporous chronology

sporous chronology is about growing up. it draws contrasts between early and late teenage years, the onset of youth, the creeping in of adulthood, the loss of innocence, etc.

poems

eating patterns

the end goal being ambiguity

memory - a mirage, a mirror, and a portrait of myself

painting of errors - a tragicomedy

stray ghosts

self portrait as a broken floor tile

romance in tangerines

part four - ache lineage

ache lineage is about trauma, heartbreak, mental health issues, and pain in general. the part with the most number of poems.

poems

midnight waking

orangeade at my funeral

an old video of you breaking vases goes viral

this is my thirteenth poem

hey, are you listening

there's a (dead) wasp on my mattress

time heals, time heals not

tomorrow ought to be a peace offering

i want to hope in my mother tongue

someday i'll love ann lilly jose (after ocean vuong)

florid sleeping

part five - love symmetry

love symmetry is all about romance. the experience of being in love, of falling in love all over again every moment you're with your partner, of healthy relationships, of the beauty of it all. the kind of love poets talk about. the kind of love that makes you feel like the sun.

poems

long division (bodies)

flight pigments

love is a firefly singing lullabies in the morning

relationship preserves

in which the poet tries to say i love you

scrap-paper orange-loves

let's be suns tonight

part six - cicerone palms

cicerone palms is dedicated to a few people who have shaped me into who i am. lessons and questions that stuck with me, that still keep me sleepless at three in the morning, that urge me to write.

poems

my mother taught me

my father's childhood isn't a montage in grayscale

my english teacher mothers the poet in me

my mother's not-to-do list

my father's mending nursery

my english teacher asks

my uncle planted words in my wrists

well, well, i suppose that's the end. i can't believe the first draft is over already. to be honest, i was very impatient with the collection and wanted to get done with it as soon as i could, but now that it's over, it feels like a part of me has shut down. i'm excited beyond words, but it's bittersweet to finally accept that something you've been working on for seven months has now come to an end.

this book has been a major part of my life - my sanctum through horrible college days and mental health struggles, my reason to keep going. i remember me back in august 2021, insecure about my poetry and determined to get better at it, watching youtube videos and reading all the articles i could find on writing poetry. it’s fulfilling to see how far i’ve made it from there.

i'm going to start with the edits for this book soon and also begin some publication research. i'm not yet sure of what route i want to take with publishing. hopefully, it'll clear itself out in future updates.

until then, take care. let me know how your writing is going, what you've been working on, how you're feeling, or anything you'd like to let me know.

love and light, ann.

general taglist (ask to be +/-)

@maxgraybooks @shaonharryandpannisim @heartfullkings @bookdragonfanish @vnsmiles @wannabeauthorzofija @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @rowenkrahn @ambidextrousarcher @showgirlcurio @jenetmoses @17nim @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy

#writing update #wip update #poetry collection #draft one is done besties #writing community #poetry update #manuscript #poetry collection update #writeblr #my wip

[emkini]

Hi! I'm a huge fan of your art. I love how you draw Fidella and Cass especially. Do you have any headcanons of them?

Hello, my apologies for the late reply- I've just now gotten the energy to go through my askbox.

Cass and Fidella headcanons you say????? oh yes I have those in SPADES actually. I have not rewatched the show in any great detail lately so nobody come at me with inaccuracies please and thank u

1. Fidella was an accidental occurrence when one of the Guard's mares got out for a few days and is half draft. Since Corona appears to employ only light cavalry, the Guard likely intended to use Fidella for hauling. Either way, she was never going to be a cavalry horse.

2. I imagine Cass was probably 11-13 during this time and would have been experiencing the famous early teenage angst along with her other many and numerous issues, and felt a Connection™ with this awkward little mistake horse

3. Cap allowed Cassandra to train Fidella, and over the years she just kind of became Cassandra's Horse (not in any official sense mind you, but when the entire royal guard has collectively adopted you these things happen)

4. At the time the show takes place, Fidella is still not technically a cavalry horse. She's a cart horse that Cassandra trained to ride, and mostly she's used for basic confidence-building riding lessons with new recruits as well as for Cassandra's personal use.

5. I very much enjoy the thought that Cassandra's training of Fidella was like 80% trial and error. No horse whisperer bullshit here our girl went into this with knowledge gained through osmosis and possibly also a book. She got bucked off so many times and the pain only made her stronger

6. As a result of #5 Fidella is a very typically-trained cart horse, however as a riding horse she's a little Quirky due to tween Cass not always training her by the book

#ask #nerdsaurus1200 #cassandra tangled #fidella tangled

[fruitcoops]

eve you have been killing the content game lately!!! I have a suggestion for the team to do the cut video where someone guesses their starsigns!!

This was a really interesting fic to write, since I know next to nothing about astrology! It’s also the longest I’ve spent researching for a fic--I will apologize in advance for any errors I made. All the birthdays/ signs came from Haz’s page (@lumosinlove) and SW credit belongs to her! Hope you enjoy <3

Marlene was practically bouncing as the video began. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! I’m Marlene McKinnon, and I can’t tell you how excited I am for today’s video. Would you like to introduce yourself, Elaine?”

An older woman with her graying hair piled in a bun waved to the camera. “Hello! My name is Elaine, and I’ve been studying astrology for about forty years now.”

“We’re so glad to have to here! Today’s video is going to be a guessing game with some of our Lions players, where you ask them a few questions and then match their zodiac signs.” Marlene handed her a small pile of cardboard signs with strings tied to the tops.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Elaine adjusted her reading glasses and flipped through the zodiac cards. “I’ve never done anything like this officially, though it’s a bit of a hobby when I people-watch. Ms. McKinnon, would I be correct in assuming you’re a Leo?”

Marlene’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

Elaine nodded. “I thought so. Alright, where do I start?”

Marlene waved off-screen and seven young men walked in, lining up in a semi-circle behind them. “Take it away, Elaine.”

As Marlene disappeared behind the camera again, Elaine scanned the group. “This is very interesting,” she muttered. “You all play on the same team, yes?”

“We do,” James said.

Elaine’s lips twitched into a smile and she beckoned him forward. “Are you the team captain, then?”

“No,” he laughed. “Assistant captain, though. I’m James.”

“Nice to meet you, James. Were you popular in high school?”

James paused for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve always been pretty friendly and hockey helped with that.”

“You’re confident, and you don’t like sitting still.” She tapped her chin and gave him a once-over. “Can I take a look at your ears?”

“My ears?” James blinked at her, clearly surprised, but obliged and leaned down to her level.

Elaine made a noncommittal noise. “Ears say a lot about a person. Capricorns often have more vertical ears, but yours are quite round. You strike me as an Aries.”

James hung the sign over his neck and headed back to the line with a smile. “She just called you annoying,” Finn teased, giving him a nudge.

“Oh, no, Aries’ can be lovely people once they mature.” Elaine tilted her head and motioned to Finn. “Could you step up to the plate, dear?”

“Sure thing.” Finn kept his hands in his pockets, but straightened up a bit and rocked on his toes as he took James’ place. “My name’s Finn.”

“You’re certainly a fire sign,” Elaine laughed. “But you’re not quite an Aries. Are you a generally upfront person?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

Finn smiled. “Anything where I could be around people.”

She nodded. “I thought so. Are you in a relationship?”

“Yeah, with those two.” Leo and Logan waved and Elaine’s smile widened.

“You’re a Leo, and a lucky one at that.” She carefully slid the sign over his head and patted his shoulder. “Good for you. Could the young man in the black jacket come up next?”

“I’m Sirius, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand before taking a step back.

“Nice to meet you, too. You’re the captain, right?”

He glanced at the camera, surprised. “Uh, yes.”

“Well, you certainly could be another fire sign, but there’s something different…” She trailed off and drummed her fingers on the stack of zodiac cards. “Are you friends with our lovely Aries over there?”

“I’m the godfather to his son.”

Elaine held her hand over her heart. “Oh, that’s so sweet. You’re not another Aries or Leo, then. How much do you value your privacy?”

Sirius snorted. “A lot.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

He held his left hand up with a slight smile and inclined his head toward Remus. “Engaged for about six months.”

“Point him out for me, please.” Elaine kept her eyes on Sirius as he pointed toward Remus, then turned to the camera crew. “Did you all see that?”

Sirius frowned slightly. “See what?”

“You’ve been so tense and focused, but your whole face opened up when you looked toward him. I’m going to guess you’re a Scorpio.” She surveyed the group as Sirius returned to his place, then beckoned to Leo. “You have the prettiest eyes!”

“Oh, thank you.” He blushed slightly. “I’m Leo.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Leo. Do you believe in astrology?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I think it’s neat, though. Stars are cool.”

“Good. You’re young, and I’m glad you’re not letting it dictate your life.” She scrutinized his face for a moment. “Turn sideways, please. There are certain face shapes that are more common than others for specific signs…if we had an argument, would you apologize to me?”

Leo smiled slightly. “Depends on what it was about. I’m not very confrontational in the first place.”

“So you like keeping things equal?”

“I do, yeah. As you can probably tell, I’m not big on making hard decisions,” he laughed.

She smiled and shuffled through the cards. “I think you’re a Libra, but this was the hardest one yet. Which one is your boyfriend again? Not the Leo.” Her face brightened. “Ha! Leo with a Leo!”

Finn’s face split into a wide grin and Leo groaned. “Oh, god, he’s never going to let that go.”

Logan was still laughing a bit when he walked over. “Bonjour, I’m Logan.”

“Oh, this makes lots of sense.” Elaine looked between the three of them and nodded. “Are you a hothead?”

“Usually.”

“What sets you off?”

Logan exhaled slowly as he thought. “Most fights on the ice come from people pushing me or my friends around. I’m not one of those weird angry guys, though. There’s always a reason.”

“I bet there is.” Elaine laughed a little. “What are your thoughts on liars?”

He made a face. “Nothing good ever comes from lying.”

Elaine hung the ‘Sagittarius’ sign over his head. “If you’re not a Sagittarius, I need to find a new career. Could the Scorpio’s fiancé come up here?”

In his thick sweater and blue jeans, Remus was the polar opposite of Sirius. “My name’s Remus.”

“You are a sweetheart,” Elaine said with a laugh. “Oh my goodness, no wonder he got all mushy! Have you always played hockey?”

“I was supposed to be drafted out of college, but I got injured and became a physical therapist for six years instead. That’s how I met the rest of the guys.”

“Interesting.” She bit her lip. “Why did you choose physical therapy?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to stay close to hockey and help people. It was tough, but it made me happy.”

“Would you say people underestimate you on the ice?”

Remus hummed in thought. “I don’t know. I’m not a big guy, but I’m fast.”

“Well, all your friends are nodding behind you.”

“What?” He turned and they all hid their smiles in their hands. “Guys!”

“They do!” James defended. “Literally everyone we play against underestimates you!”

“Let’s say we get in an argument. Would you apologize to me?” Elaine asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That depends. Was I right?”

“Yeah, you’re a Pisces.” She handed him the card, smiling. “Congratulations on the engagement. We only have one left, correct?”

Kasey shook her hand as he walked up. “I’m Kasey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kasey. Do you believe in the zodiac?”

“Nope,” he said. “But my girlfriend does, and she has cool necklaces and stuff.”

“You don’t strike me as a hothead.”

He shrugged. “I’m a goalie. It doesn’t usually come with the job description, but I’d take the gloves off for my friends.”

She flipped through a few of the cards. “You care deeply for them, then?”

“Absolutely. They’re basically my family by this point.”

Elaine hesitated. “This is a tough one. I’m going to go with Taurus, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Are you patient?”

“With some people, sure. It varies.” Behind him, the others were stifling their laughter. Elaine gave them a look, but hung the Taurus card over his head.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” Marlene said as Kasey rejoined the group. “Raise your hand if she guessed you correctly.”

Five hands went up; only Leo and Kasey stayed still. Elaine clapped her hands happily. “Oh, I didn’t do too badly!”

Marlene ushered them into a line. “So, Elaine, how did you know James was an Aries?”

“He’s just…” She waved a hand in her air. “He’s very confident, though I feel like he’s matured over the past few years. Something big happened in your life that settled you down, right?”

“My son was born just over a year ago,” he said. “That definitely toned me down.”

“Thank god for that.” Finn muttered, giving him a playful nudge. James smacked the back of his head with a grin as he walked to the end of the line.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got your boyfriends,” Elaine said. “Leo’s often struggle with their identity when they’re younger, so it’s wonderful to see you’ve figured things out a bit.”

Finn blinked, dumbstruck. “Am I that much of an open book?”

“Yes,” the other six chorused. He paused for a moment, nodded, and made room for Sirius to step forward.

“Ah, I knew it!” She beamed at him. “Scorpio and Pisces are very compatible.”

“So we’ve been told,” Sirius laughed.

“You’re the hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Making up for lost time?” At his shocked expression, she her smile became gentle. “That’s usually how it goes. Don’t be afraid to be soft, okay?”

“Okay.” He hesitated a moment longer before joining Finn and James at the end of the line; James touched his elbow in solidarity while Leo walked forward.

“Oh, an Aquarius!” Elaine’s eyebrows rose. “I should’ve guessed. Well, that’s a good thing. You’ll be a good counterbalance for the reactive parts of Leos and Sags.”

“Thanks.” He looked faintly amused. “Can I blame Finn’s puns on his zodiac sign?”

She laughed. “Yes, absolutely.”

“It’s good to know there’s a reason for it,” Logan said as he took Leo’s place. “You guessed me pretty fast.”

“You were bluntly honest.” She shrugged. “Sags can be difficult to narrow down, but you fit right in for all the good parts.”

Elaine smiled when Remus stepped up. “You seemed really certain about me,” he said.

“You’re the most Pisces to ever Pisces, dear.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’re kind, but I don’t think you take any shit either.” At the back of the line, Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, and he agrees!”

“He better!” Remus grinned back at him.

Elaine gasped when Kasey held up his new sign. “Really?”

He shrugged. “My girlfriend is a Taurus and some of that might have rubbed off on me.”

“Does she have a big personality?”

“Definitely.”

“Wow.” She gave him a quick once over. “There were some parts of Sagittarius that came through, but you were a tough one.”

“It’s the goalie face,” James called from the back of the line.

“Sorry,” Kasey said. “It’s a habit.”

“No, no, that’s alright.” She stared at him for a second longer before shaking her head. “You’re much softer than most of the Sags I’ve met. It’s hard to believe you and the Energizer Bunny back there share the same sign.”

“Did you have fun, Elaine?” Marlene asked as she collected the zodiac cards.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you so much for inviting me!”

Marlene smiled at the camera . “Thanks for watching, everyone. Be sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

[ijswezel]

     all right, i finally shotgunned over 900 saved draft posts in like just a few days this week so that should give you plenty of stuff to keep you occupied on the long drive home. big sorry to the six of you i routinely reblog stuff from for the dire notification spam though lol

     with that done, it’s time for a break. i am trying very hard to be the best person i can be every day and sure i’ve grown a lot in a lot of ways, but i realise i still have a whole bunch of toxic traits that affect other people that i need to sort out. either i unknowingly drive people away, alienate them when they’re trying to love me or i just generally fuck stuff up somehow, or people just find me very easy to put down and be done with. i am bipolar, and am often Too Much in one or an assortment of ways, too intense or too this or that or the other. sometimes it is really difficult because it makes me feel unworthy of any friends but if i keep telling myself that then i’m giving myself no room to change. i lost a lot of people very close and dear to me over the last couple of years, people i love and people i’ve known for years and ultimately i’m the reason why. it makes me as sad as fuck because life is lonely these days and while nobody ever communicates what i did wrong before leaving, it all keeps leading back to the same place and i’m determined to fix it. i don’t want to be a negative influence on other peoples’ lives and i need to reflect on what i need to do to become a better person to people to stop this happening

     it’s one of those things where yeah, i deserve people in my life who are understanding and compassionate and want to know me for me even through the rough bits and the obsessions and the mood swings and the hard bits and the lows as well as when i'm doing well. and yeah, the weight of maintaining friendships and relationships isn’t entirely on me alone. that’s just not fair. but more often than not, the problem is me and i keep affecting others around me in harmful ways. i apologise whenever i can but there’s a point where apologies very quickly become meaningless if It Keeps Happening Regardless

     why the break? well i actually dislike social media in general with the burning intensity of a thousand desert suns, that’s why i only have this blog, and a personal private instagram that often goes months between posts, and even they are sometimes too much. but as cursed as this website is, i hate tumblr the least as a format. it reminds me of the wild west of the old myspace days. i digress, however; this is just something i need to do away from social media in general because social media is absolutely not helping any. i was gonna delete this blog outright at first but it seems a bit of a waste to shitcan it after 11 years (not all on this blog but an accumulated total) so i’m just going to leave it dormant for a while instead and return at a later date

     so if you stumble across this page in the mean time, please enjoy your stay, have a rifle around. ask a question, leave a message, submit a song, submit a thought, maybe. for those that come here for music, my #music tag is in spotify playlist form in my sidebar for easier shuffling (for some reason clicking it from posts throws up errors but the same link from the sidebar works fine). maybe when i’m back i might finally revamp my theme, who knows

     but most importantly, be good to yourself

     i love you. namaste

#me

[septic-skele]

US - An Emotional Attachment

Summary: Y/N asks for Papyrus’ opinion on a draft for one of their research papers. Unfortunately, that's not the file they send him. (Swap Papyrus x Reader)

Kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me. Stars, please, just let me die. I’m done, this is it! Just let me cease to be!

One misclick after a near-sleepless night was as good a murder weapon as any. Y/N’s demise would be grisly, their face melting off the bone from sheer humiliation. Why this, why now? They had just wanted Pap’s opinion on their research paper before they sent it to the professor and instead—

It could be worse, a part of them pleaded, the part that desired to deny catastrophe until something literally blew up in their face. If the professor had gotten that email—Stars! But Papyrus had left their frantic texts unanswered, which did nothing to soothe their terror.

Y/N

[10:02 a.m.] Askjfksjfsks wrong! Fr the love of

[10:02 a.m.] WRONG THINFG DO NOT OPENN

[10:03 a.m.] why can’t I do o NE THIMNG RIGHT I’MSO STUPID

[10:05 a.m.] Pap pls tell me u didn’t read that holy hnnnngh 😭

So on and so forth they had blabbered in vain; they had sent it right before crashing into bed. He must have opened the attachment long before they awoke and noticed their error. Was he still reading it, at this very moment? They wheezed at the thought. There was…quite a bit of material to get through.

There could be a distant glimmer of hope. Maybe he had slept through it too; maybe he was still asleep and their dignity hadn’t yet come crashing down. If he could just see their texts and know better than to peek at their shame…Was that too much to hope for?

Of course it was. It had to be. He wouldn’t be able to resist it after seeing the file name. Until he read it through—or his repulsion overwhelmed him too much to continue—he had them anticipating their doom, writhing for mercy like a worm on a hook.

Papyrus [is typing…]

All of the worst case scenarios were spilling into their head, making their eyes sting. Their grip on their phone would have strangled a living being.

Pap had to think they were such a creep, writing such fantasies about him. If he didn’t want to be within six feet of them anymore, they couldn’t hold it against him. For a split second they thought about ending the suffering now, ripping the bandage off before he could. Offering to disappear from his life, rather than being driven out, would be better for both of them but the idea came too late.

Papyrus

[10:53 a.m.] Really interesting. Pleasant surprise actually

[10:54 a.m.] Never really thought of these two meshing so well but you did it justice & still keeping them in character. If I gotta nitpick I guess that bonehead’s jokes are a little TOO funny

Was he joking now? Had he seen the texts yet? Didn’t he know how humiliated they were? Incredulity and despair were tying knots in their chest, but…teasing was better than his discomfort or disgust, wasn’t it? Maybe they still had a chance to apologize. Maybe now he would crack a pun, laugh it off and they could move on like it had never happened.

Papyrus [is typing…]

Papyrus [is typing…]

Papyrus [is typing…]

It didn’t often take him this long to think of some witty wordplay. Why did he hesitate?

Papyrus

[10:58 a.m.] Okay I didn’t expect to be this nervous haha wow

He was nervous? Y/N couldn’t recall a single instance of nervousness in him, not that they had seen. Perhaps it was a good thing that they couldn’t see him now. All they saw were the ellipses drumming on as he typed, erased, and rephrased.

Papyrus

[11:03 a.m.] But

[11:03 a.m.] If I’m reading the room right

[11:04 a.m.] I wanna be real with you.

Y/N swallowed, their mouth sandpaper dry. If they were shaking suddenly, they didn’t notice. It didn’t matter.

Papyrus

[11:05 a.m.] I’m a sucker for Friends to Lovers ❤️

#undertale #underswap #fanfiction #y/n #papyrus #papyrus undertale #swap papyrus #x reader #y/n writes fanfiction #romance #fluff #secret crush #reveal #love confessions #this is really self indulgent #oh well

[jengarie]

#showyourprocess !

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag up to 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

Thank you, @rinielle for tagging me! She chose the piece above (original post), and oh boy this one was a whole ass rollercoaster ride! Unfortunately, I hadn't turned on the timelapse feature for this but I'll try to go through each part of the process as best as I can!

The photos I'm gonna upload are gonna be a mix of screenshots and literal photos of my screen, because I'm taking some of them from my updates to friends, since a lot of the steps got lost in my painting process.

But before that, let me tag some other amazing creators!

@dragonji: this gif art!

@candicewright: this yibo painting!

@wendashanren: this gifset!

@mylastbraincql: this gif!

I haven't been able to keep track of who's been tagged so apologies if you've already done this! Also, no pressure to do it at all if you would rather not! <3

Planning

Sometimes, I get an idea first and find reference photos to go with that idea. But for this one, I sought out a reference photo first, and built an idea on top of it!

After that, I roughly sketch out the base pose. Usually, this looks very messy, but it doesn't really matter as long as I understand which part goes where!

The idea for the background didn't really come until the creation process because I don't think I really planned this to be a full piece.

Creation

Sketching

Honestly, from this point on, it's more of trial and error.

So, I redid the the initial base pose—made it cleaner and a little bit more detailed. See: the added definition in their arm muscles, the rearrangement of Wei Wuxian's legs, and Lan Wangji's hand on Wei Wuxian's back. If you look at the second photo, I also changed the pose a bit midway—I tend to edit as I go sometimes when I change my mind. (For this, I thought, given the Lan arm strength, it would be better to make Lan Wangji look more at ease carrying Wei Wuxian. This gets covered by the robes anyway though, so it didn't matter much in the end.)

I also started adding details to the base! I usually start with the face and then the hair! I usually go for the clothes next, but I dreaded the robes in this piece so I guess that's why I ended up with a basic idea of what I wanted for the background instead LOL I also figured out how I want the final crop to look like, so I blocked out all the other areas with an extra layer!

Okay, onto the part that killed me like ten times: the robes. There are a lot of interactions between their robes here given their pose, and not to mention they also have layers upon layers on each of them! So, to maintain my sanity and to keep track of which part is which, I color coded them into the most colorful sketch I've ever made.

Another reason why I filled in each layer of robe with a solid block of color, is so that all the lines underneath gets covered. Without all of the colors, the actual outline actually looks like the one on the right. What a nightmare!

I also ignored the crop again for this part, because it's always better to draw past your borders, in case you decide to rotate or tilt or whatever your piece later on. I didn't do the feet anymore though, because that I was sure wouldn't show in the final piece anymore.

After that, I did the sketch one more time and then started adding the base colors. (I didn't have a screenshot of just the base colors, and the final CSP file is a nightmare so I copy pasted the layers into a new canvas to show you guys :') )

By the way, I drew their robes flowing this way, because I wanted it to frame the lower arch of the moon behind them for the composition. It was a little frustrating that I couldn't get Lan Wangji's robes a little higher because of Wei Wuxian's legs but I later filled in the empty space with his forehead ribbon anyway, so it all worked out in the end!

Painting

Because apparently, I was a masochist back then, I merged the base colors all into one layer and started adding shadows to the robes. (These days, I add shadows first and then, merge. It's much easier this way.)

And then, I started painting! Again, I did the face first and then the hair, before finally the robes. This was my first time painting side profiles and honestly it was quite a pain to figure out LOL but !!! I think I did a good job and I'm proud of how it turned out. I again used reference photos for this one but I can't link any because they were just several random Pinterest photos that I didn't save.

Another thing to note is that I use the mesh transform tool a lot, especially on faces. That's largely why Lan Wangji's face looks so different in the latter two!

And then I went with the robes. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn't like how I planned to do Lan Wangji's sleeves and the flowy part of Wei Wuxian's robes and I... decided, with much dread, to do them over. So I sketched on top of the painted layers and redid the robes, again.

It was at this point that I decided to take a break from this piece because it was honestly very draining! I think it took about three weeks before I decided to open the file again and continue it.

When I did, I just finished painting the rest of the robes and their hands. The blue details on Lan Wangji's outer robes were painted on a separate layer that I put on Multiply. I probably did more adjustments to the face and hair and stuff, because my painting process is honestly a mess :')

Final Adjustments

I added some correction layers on certain areas to fix some of the colors. See: Lan Wangji's sleeve becoming much brighter and paler; Wei Wuxian's legs having less contrast. And then I merged all of the layers (excluding the background) and added a bit of blur. See: Wei Wuxian's ponytail; the entire lower part; the flowing forehead ribbon. My reasoning for this is so that most of the detail (and therefore the flow of the eye) goes to their faces and expressions!

And then, I put a blue Overlay layer on low opacity to make Wangxian blend better with the background, added a bit of shadow on the inside and the lower sections and added the glowing details for the added flair. I initially wanted sparkles and/or stars but they didn't turn out as well as this did. I also upped the contrast by a little for the entire piece!

Aaaand, that's it! In truth, I did a bit more color adjustments to the whole piece, but I was a dummy who forgot to turn them back on before posting so ... oh well.

Posting

Before posting, I upload it either on my spare private Twitter account or on a drafted Tumblr post so I can check the colors on my phone. This is because the colors on different devices can look very different, and I would at the very least want all my pieces to look nice on both of my devices!

And then, once I deem it satisfactory, I just try to think of a caption and post! Some artists wait for a certain time where most of their followers are active, but I didn't have a lot of MDZS followers at this point so it didn't really matter to me.

It still doesn't really; I haven't actually been able to figure out when my MDZS followers are awake even now.

#showyourprocess #mine #whew this was so long oops #but this piece took like #maybe 1.5 weeks sans the break i had to take #so !! #LOL #tag game

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi again! I come to you today with a question that may simply be a continuity error, but I'm still interested in your thoughts! In the main story, le Comte *knows* it was MC that came through the door behind him. Yet in Comte's "One Night, Beneath the Crescent Moon" POV story, he said he "...had no idea of what would happen next... That she would end up using the same door and end up stuck on the other side." What's your take on it? Thanks in advance! 💛

Hiya! First off I wanna apologize for how long it took to reply oTL I had originally drafted a response and then lost it when I accidentally closed the tab, and whenever that happens I always have to like sufficiently mourn the words I lost 😂😂😂

But to answer your question! If I’m entirely honest, I can’t remember what it was Comte said exactly in the Main Story in regards to her entering the door. There could be a lot of explanations for him saying he “knew”: continuity error, him wanting to put her at ease by seeming “in control” of the situation (while he’s screaming internally), or maybe even him wanting to cast some doubt as to whether or not he’s a person that can be trusted (aka the whole like “MC nooooooo don’t trust me I’m a vampire very bad very scary run away” kind of like Leonardo). 

All that being said, given the evidence we have and the stories I’ve read from his POV--esp that Crescent Moon one you referenced--I’m most inclined to believe that he had no idea she would follow him that day at the Louvre. If anything I really don’t think he ever anticipated any human person could follow him through the door? Because remember Sebastian (and the suitors for that matter) only manage because Comte is their escort. Sure their will to live on was strong enough that he could hear them, but they had no capacity to approach or find a door on their own as far as we currently know. The door was closed when MC found it; this suggests that Comte fully closed off that avenue to make sure nobody wayward stepped in by accident. He did the responsible thing and he left long before he could ascertain her safe journey through time, but she still managed to make it across somehow.

That’s why I think MC’s mere existence is earth-shattering to Comte. I mean we have all the good basics: a lovely lady, sweet and hard-working, means well and does her best. And these attributes all do matter, for sure. But the door is perhaps a greater catalyst in their romance than we might have first anticipated.

There will be some semi-hefty JPN rt spoilers below the cut for Dazai and Comte, so I’m just going to keep it under wraps just in case there are people who want to remained 100% unspoiled:

TW: Mentions of suicide in Dazai’s rt

The reason I say this is twofold, based on information provided by Dazai and Comte’s Main Story route. In Dazai’s route, remember that the focal point of the story is that Dazai wants to go back in time to kill himself as a baby so that he can never grow up to write his books or cause anyone pain in the near future--essentially, suicidal ideation to a frightening extreme. One of the main reasons that he fails (though MC plays a significant role in stopping him, too) is that Dazai’s will to kill himself is too weak. In simpler terms, this means that--no matter how much he insisted he wanted to die, the truth of his heart was revealed in his constant hesitating and difficulty going through with it. This is very often a reaction from people who need sizable psychological assistance to overcome trauma; they don’t usually want to die, it’s more that the pain of surviving their experiences is outweighing any possible joy they can find in living. 

But back to the most important part in bold. When Dazai asks about being able to use the door to travel through time, Charles confirms that it’s possible to travel without a pureblood escort. HOWEVER. This type of travel is very, very difficult unless you have an intense sense of willpower. I imagine the implication here is that you have to have an overwhelming desire and firmly believe it’s where you want to be in order for the travel attempt to succeed at all. (I don’t think the tethering point necessarily matters, but there is a suggestion that strong bonds between people--whether platonic or romantic--can serve as powerful guideposts when the door is distorted.) In other words, the reason Dazai relies on Charles’ moral bankruptcy is because Dazai knows he doesn’t feel strongly enough to go through with the suicide. He needs someone else who has the sheer determination and unbending will to see it through when the door opens. 

This is why Dazai is forced to ask Charles to accompany him, even though Charles doesn’t necessarily want to kill him. For Charles, this is less about a desperation to kill Dazai and more about his intense obsession-love for MC, and his willingness to do anything to receive her love/attention in return. In Charles’ view, since MC is ostensibly in love with Dazai, removing Dazai from the picture permanently is ideal. While Charles’ judgement is clouded and a little horrific, he is nonetheless rock steady in comparison to Dazai’s nonstop wavering. Dazai knows that he’s fickle on a personal level; one moment he wants to die, another he’s too afraid to let go of what he does care about or upset anyone. He’s at a point where he doesn’t know what’s right or true anymore and he’s floundering, which is honestly fairly common among those who share his lamentable condition. (Most people don’t have a death wish--it’s more a combination of circumstantial problems and healing that has remained in stasis that constitutes the extremity of that behavior.)

Moving right along, Comte’s route also features a similar testament to willpower, believe it or not. This happens in the last few chapters of the main story. Basically, Shakespeare dumps MC on Vlad’s doorstep and she’s more or less suffering the latter’s monologuing for a good while. Not long after that Comte appears and nearly shoots Vlad in the head, the bullet just grazing his cheek. Comte demands that he let MC go, and Vlad--in a classic sadistic act of compliance--wrenches open the door and just tosses MC into the freefall of distorted spacetime.

Now this is dangerous to MC’s life in and of itself, but there’s a key element there: distorted spacetime. In this main story the door never returns to its normal state after that first month period. Rather, the expanse of the door is too dangerous to be traveled even by a pureblood, let alone a human being. The chances MC will ever be able to escape in order to survive are closer to zero than any other number. Remember that Comte is immortal. If he gets stuck on his own, he can’t die and the damage to his body is always more than able to heal when he’s back to safety. (He even warns Leonardo in Leo’s MS that the danger of getting stuck in some kind of pocket in spacetime is still too significant to be ignored, though I can’t be sure if that’s due to Leonardo’s inexperience with time travel/requirement for an escort, or just an inevitable risk you juggle anytime you travel through the door.)

Of course Comte leaps in after her to try to save her, but presumably their entry point is long gone now (Vlad shut the door), so they’re just kind of floating in amorphous time. They do and don’t exist. Comte is understandably distraught because MC’s life hangs in the balance; if they don’t find a way out, she is almost certainly going to die. Comte admits that--while he hates the fact that his very existence is a danger to her, he still doesn’t regret finding her by any extension. MC protests, naturally, that there’s nothing to regret. Circumstances be what they may, she loves him. 

Now, here is the key. While Comte is trying to think of a way out, MC is thinking hard about wanting to return to the mansion. Her mind reflects an acute, intense desire to return home to the place where they both belong. And wouldn’t you know it? They both suddenly tumble out of the door in the mansion and onto the carpeted floor, whole and alive, sputtering in disbelief. Comte is baffled at first but it can only give way to immense relief that she’s safe, and he just immediately breaks down.

The only reason the two make it out unscathed is because of--I can only assume--MC’s overwhelming will to live on with Comte and return to the mansion. While it would have been natural for her to be overcome by fear to the point where she could make no productive decision, or even humor the concept of focusing on their home, she does it all the same with immediate success. That’s also part of why I think Comte just 100% caves into both of their feelings in the next chapter. He saw firsthand that, not only does MC keep a level head under duress, but she also has the overpowering will necessary to survive amongst vampires. And it was perhaps this unshakeable will in the first place that landed her in the late 19th century all those weeks ago.

It’s interesting because, honestly? Her entry through the door is more or less a hinge point for their romance. While it obviously isn’t the only reason he cares about her, it definitely is one of the bigger reasons he even feels safe enough to court her in earnest in the aftermath. It is literally only after this event that he confesses everything. Why he created the mansion and the men. How he’s really felt about her and himself all this time. What Vlad showed her and the implications of Vlad’s existence. And finally the truth about what he wants. He wants a relationship with her, but he keeps being held back by the fear that he’s too much. That the demand of being by his side will outweigh any happiness she might find choosing him. (Granted MC and I find that preposterous given how attentive and considerate he is, but you know). But after seeing her pull off surviving Vlad and traveling through the door by her own willpower again? I think it sufficiently lessens his doubts as to whether she could handle a future with him. It gives him the courage to just ask her: Do you want a future with me? Can you handle the demands of a vampire that cannot accept a mere human lifetime to be in love? 

And so this is why I have unceasing Comte brainworms ladies and gentlethem. I need to go lie down before I start crying again, I love him oTL

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp meta #fangdad propaganda #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp jpn rt spoilers #i hope this makes sense/was helpful! #you're always welcome <3333 #man i need a snack but comte isnt here so whats the point #*long dramatic sigh* #AND WUV. TWUUUUUU WUV......WILL FOWOW U FOWEVAAAAAAAAA..... #AND MAWWIAGE......THAT BWESSED A W A N G E M E N T......THAT DWEAM W I F I N. A DWEAM. #SO CHEWISH YO WUV #i have exactly one brain cell and all it does is rattle for comte 25/8 #god idk how im going to wait for his wedding event in ENG oTL #i am tender #not incorrect quotes #rambles

[qwertyfingers]

WOO CONGRATS ON THE TEET YEET!!! also also, your poetry is beautiful. can i ask how you got started?

thank u!!! apologies for how long this answer got i’m waffling

so i feel like the start of my answer is kind of unhelpful because i really just. started writing? no one encouraged me or helped me or anything i really just ran with it on my own. a lot of how i write is really just how i think - the metaphors and similes and weird comparisons come very naturally to me. i have no idea if this is how other writers feel?? but i can’t give any advice on how to develop that beyond just. writing a lot.

i’ve find poetry to be really good emotional outlet, so a lot of what i write about is very repetitive in terms of themes - a lot of mentions of my dad and my stepdad, compulsions, teeth and while i don’t think any of what i wrote back then was very good or worth sharing it did give me a lot of practice in kind of. building a writing headspace?

i can’t really point to any specific inspirations early on because i really didn’t read very much. most of my favourite poems when i was younger were very structured and used a lot of rhyme - i really enjoyed war poetry when we studied it in high school for example - but i’ve always written pretty loosely, a lot of enjambment and playing around with formatting. i felt very drawn to mary oliver and richard siken when i discovered them in my mid-late teens (although i defintiely think that i understand them better rereading them now as an adult). 

i’ve written many different styles of poem, but i really only have two style of writing behaviour: either i write total stream-of-consciousness and don’t edit it until i’ve totally run out of things to say - pompeii, reimagined from this collection was written this way, as was FOIL - or i write very conscious of the formatting from the start - some examples of this are unholied, ajovy and my father thinks i should learn how to code. sometimes there’s a crossover like in inelegant fingers but typically its one or the other.

the city i live in now has a pretty big ~poetry scene~ with several regular live readings, even more random events throughout the year, and people regularly coming from out of town to read here. i hiiiiighly recommend going to readings if you live somewhere that you can get to them because it can expose you to a really wide range of writers, from first-timers to people with long publishing histories. being involved in that scene really taught me that there’s really no hierarchy of talent, that there are fantastic writers at every ~skill level~. and more than anything, that it’s possible to hate a poem or poet and still get a lot out of their work. i’ve made a lot of friends through going to and helping to host events too :) 

some recommendations for writing that i personally find useful:

spend a lot of time thinking about writing! when i’m out walking, even when i’m getting groceries, i’m spinning thoughts around my head about writing. i frequently think up what i think of as the ‘headline’ of a poem when i’m busy doing something else. write that shit down! keep a notebook or note on your phone and write them down. 

relatedly: absolutely cannibalise your old poems. if you’ve got a piece you don’t like any more, or that you could never finish but you’re attached to it, steal your favourite lines and work them into soemthing else, or challenge yourself to rewrite that poem in a new style or format

i keep a word doc full of lines and phrases i liked that i couldn’t fit into anything or that weren’t developed enough that i go back to and take things from. sometimes it’s just a handful of words - ‘ transposing neuroses onto neurons’ sat in that doc for months before i used it - and sometimes its entire lines or even stanzas. i also paste in here things i deleted from existing pieces during editing - sometimes you like something but just not in its current setting yknow

give yourself writing challenges! there are allllll kinds of things you can challenge yourself to do. find a photograph you like, and try to write the feeling it gives you, or write about the content of it, or from the perspective of the person taking the picture. pick an album or song and listen to it on repeat and write. go to different places and see if your writing feels different there. write a poem first thing in the morning or on your lunch break or write before you go to bed. write when you feel really happy, or scared, or angry or tired. write about someone you love, or someone you really hate. write using found-language - blackout poetry is one version, but you can also cut words out and collage them. a friend of mine wrote an amazing poem using ads on gumtree. i like to hit random page on wikipedia and challenge myself to write using the words on that page or about the content of it. i dont find timed challenges helpful but some people do. experiment! ask your friends for prompts! if you’ve friends who also write poetry, give eachother challenges and give eachother feedback

also, if you’ve got friends who write, absolutely ask for their input on a piee if you get stuck. my friend tasha frequently helps me with my grammar and punctuation to improve clarity and many more people have helped me with ideas, promts, challenges and encouragement :)

my personal favourite: write about fiction! a lot of my favourite of my own poems were about this. ;kodos in error - which desperately needs reworking but that i’m nevertheless very proud of - was written about the tarsus iv storyline in the original star trek. the only overt reference to it’s origin is the name kodos in the title - and it’s very much about myself too - but ultimately the entire time i wrote it i was thinking about that plot. i’ve also written about fortnite and the expanse  

play around with what you want from a poem. sometimes it’s emotional, sometimes it’s all about the sound and the feel of it in your mouth, sometimes it’s about imagery and giving the reader a clear picture of something. Sometimes you want to do something fun with the formatting, or make it short and snappy or long and lilting. Try not to get stuck in one type of poem. 

personally unless i’m writing for a specific thing - like a reading of to submit to a specific journal - i never think about a reader until i’ve finished at least the first draft. i’m not a professional; i share the things i like but ultimately i write for myself only. i don’t need to have an audience in mind for anything i write, and i think that helps me. not everyone finds this easier, but i do.

read poetry! read absolutely anything you can get your hands on - even when you don’t like something you can learn from it. poetry foundations 

talk about poetry! i didn’t go to school for creative writing and most of what i learned in HS went totally over my head, but i find talking about poetry i like with friends to be infinitely valuable. discussion will help you find things you didn’t see before, and understand why the things you do like resonate so much, how you can maybe replicate those in your own writing etc.

if you’ve never written before, it is literally never too late to start. just get going! don’t let your inner critic get in the way, just write and write and try not to worry too much about whether its ~good~ until you get more used to writing.  there are a thousnad different ways for a poem to be Good. if you write for emotional release and it works then its good. if you write to get other people to understand how you feel and that comes through, its good. if you just want to make it sound a certain way then its good. 

<3