#//this verse is so angsty and full of chaos I love it

[mothvalentino]

// redemption!Val is really like "alright, who else's day can I ruin?" and I think that's beautiful...

[partially-controlled-chaos]

For the 'more fic writer asks', would love for you to answer questions 4, 11 and 23 🙂

Thank you @roguishcat for the ask! ❤️ The writers asks can be found here. And for a bit of context, it’s all Baldur’s Gate 3 related.

4. A story idea you haven’t written yet.

- Currently the WIP idea that’s rotting my brain. I’ve done nothing to it yet, but I’m toying with a very horny Halsin struggling to not fantasize about the reader while alone in his tent. He’s failing miserably at this, but he’s trying his best. Absolutely NSFW.

11. A WIP you’d like to finish someday.

- I have a Gale pining/early romance fic that I’ve started but I’ve put on the back burner for now. The idea behind it I really like, but I just feel like it’s lacking substance and I need to find a way to kind of add some structure to it. Maybe one day, because I do love my funny wizard man.

- Also currently working on a Halsin X F!Tav fic request I haven’t been able to work on this week.

23. 3 keywords that describe your writing.

- I’d like to think my writing is descriptive, soft/tender, and well-rounded.

- I say descriptive because I always try to build the world as best as I can in writing. I don’t draw so being as descriptive as possible, without getting too specific, is my next best thing to visual art. I’d say that’s backed up because all of my Halsin fics are absolutely massive 😅.

- Soft/tender because I do try to keep things on the more gentle side. Although I’m very, very liable to write angst, action/fights are not something I’m well versed in writing so they tend to be short and quick. So with that I tend to try to write either soft and fluffy or just angsty.

- Finally I really, really would like to think my stories are well-rounded. I try hard to make everything connect and come full circle at times or have reoccurring themes throughout. Doesn’t always happen, but I do try to.

- Bonus word: chaotic because I do not write things in order so most of the time I’m jumping all over the place and there is no order when I write. It’s absolute chaos until I fill in all the gaps and it all comes together. Half finished sentences, like three words describing something I hope to remember, THINGS WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS SO I DON’T FORGET TO REMOVE LATER. It’s a mine field.

[zet-sway]

I wrote something angsty and spicy.

Rated: "E" for "Extremely Spicy" [NSFT] AO3 Link: "Vantablack" Pairing: Thane / FemShep (Unrequited?) Pairing: Garrus / Femshep (Mentioned) Summary: Alone, as only a drell mind could, moments melded together like droplets of dew on grass. The ghost of his mouth over her neck. The taste of her painted lips on a rim of crystal. Hair feathering over his fingers, the scent of her body, and the thrum of her pulse tugging at his heart with longing.

THIS IS NOT HAPPY SHRIOS. Most of my recent work has been very soft and warm feeling - this is not that. But I want ya'll to know I have some soft happy shrios in the pipeline to make it up to you <3

Inspired by @shut-up-alexa's fic Weightless, I drew upon the moment where Thane takes a sip from a glass Shepard had just been drinking from - as was her intention. The fic itself says he tastes her lip print and sets the memory aside for when he is "alone with himself in the darkest part of the night." It was then I knew I had been visited by the smut fairy. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME WRITE FANFIC OF YOUR FANFIC :D

Sleep was difficult enough to claim, most nights.

Thane, ever a man of routine, kept to his nightly rituals like an acolyte. He began with prayer. Verses carved into his mind since his youth, silent and still as he bargained with the gods to mull the chaos of his memories, to forgive his misgivings. Meditation lasted as long as it needed to. Sleep was, after all, fruitless without a quiet mind.

Aboard the Normandy, however, nightly meditation felt like a fool’s pursuit. Shepard, returned from the waves of Kalahira’s ocean, demanded much of a man like him. In her hands, the carefully constructed fortress of his mind was like a house of cards. Reborn into the hands of the enemy, she raged, unable to trust the unfamiliar construct that was her body and searching with grief and heartache for a lover she couldn’t locate. She prodded him with questions, seared him with her gaze and her relentless upset.

Raw, heart-stricken, and reckless, her anger was justified - even if she flung it at him underhandedly. He forgave her always. To be her target was to bear her trust. He could see it clearly; she knew no other way to soothe the guilt and isolation that tore openly at both her body and her mind. In time, he was confident she would heal. Until then, Cerberus was no friend to her.

And thus tonight, like most nights, she haunted him.

At 0300, he decided on a compromise. Troubled sleep was better than none at all. After a calming herbal tea and having tended to his hygiene, he settled into his cot, nude as he so preferred to sleep. If he could sleep at all.

The minutes, and the memories, began to tick by.

"The most important aspect is intent," he’d said to her, watching her eyes follow him while he circled behind her. "A breath of hesitation will get you killed, or worse." Hands alighted on her shoulders - a companionable gesture before they both endeavored to threaten her life.

Shepard didn't flinch when he began the demonstration. Thane flattened himself against her back, one arm winding wide around her shoulders. Pressed into the curves of her body, his sweet torture began. She arched her neck - calm, trusting - offering her throat into the curl of his elbow as he tucked his arm under her chin and sealed his hand on her opposite shoulder. He steeled himself against his lust, breathing in unison with her, taking advantage of his proximity to inhale her scent as he demonstrated the headlock. Carmine hair brushed across his fingers where they were clamped on the nape of her neck, his breath washing over vulnerable, prickling skin.

Thane let the silence linger, writing the lush warmth of her body into his memory, caught in the lethal intimacy of his embrace.

"Weaken the spine by twisting," he murmured, his lips nearly brushing her ear, each word sending strands of hair ruffling on his breath. Thane closed his eyes, enflamed by her closeness, praying for mercy as she tilted back into him - a wordless exchange of scorching intent, however convinced she was to not act upon it.

His voice, barely a whisper, poured forth from intangible parts of him that hadn't known a lover's touch in over a decade.

"Apply pressure in the opposite direction."

Careful, controlled, he flexed the arm around her throat and wristed the palm at her neck. Painful to her, as he knew it would be, but not enough to truly hurt her. Nevertheless, she tensed in his arms, a kinetic shiver flowing from her body into his like the sinful call of a siren. Willing herself to trust a killer's restrained tactile intimacy, a hair-trigger away from dropping her where they stood.

"And snap."

Innate human vulnerability gave voice to her wanting. A single breath escaped her lips when she failed to contain it behind clenched teeth, her carotid artery pounding beneath smooth scales. Thane answered with his own hot rush of air against the back of her neck, a contorted gasp he hadn’t realized he was holding, torn from his throat almost against his will.

He allowed himself a blinding second more before releasing her, but not before stealing a brush of delicate skin across his lips as he pulled away. A parting gift to himself - one he paid for just hours later, when she laid her poisoned trap before him.

With the skin of her neck still irritated from their training, Shepard, mildly intoxicated herself and wrapped in a dark silk robe, presented him with a glass of her own venom. Tequila - amber and potent, an indulgence she knew full well he’d deny -- unless it was laced with his drug of choice. Her.

There upon the rim of the glass was the rosy imprint of her pigmented lips. A well of temptation, spiked with her essence. If this was a test, he'd failed spectacularly. Gods forgive him, he raised the glass to his lips under the pretense of drinking and lost himself to the faintest tastes of her mouth, entranced, savoring the traces of her beneath the mask she painted on every morning to reclaim what little of herself she believed was left. Shepard watched him with a carnivore's eyes, drawn over with night-black daggers as if to warn him. Like a rose garden, she was beautiful and wreathed in thorns. He knew better than to stray too close, but he would gladly take what meager offerings she presented - venomous or not.

This was his penance for opportunity’s kiss, stolen behind her back. A petty theft, to be sure. But even petty sins were still sins.

True to her reputation, Shepard was a fast learner. She played his game, abided by his rules, allowed him to touch her under the guise of training. She wasn’t blind to her effect on him - no. She would use him to find her turian lover. And he would let her. Selfishly, begrudgingly - willingly. What she desired would be hers for however long she allowed him to remain in her orbit.

The temptation of her lingered in his mouth and still, it wasn’t enough. It would never be until he could taste it directly from her lips, sealing his arms around her, a serpent beckoning her to taste of her own forbidden desires.

“What does it taste like?” She’d asked, as he sampled her forbidden offering.

The moment played over in his mind as he savored what little he had of her. Wax and pigment woven through with the fire of her essence. The rubicund flavors of her mouth, lit from within by the burn of tequila. The leash of his desire held firm in her little human hands, ever reminding him that she was not his to hold.

Alone, as only a drell mind could, moments melded together like droplets of dew on grass. The ghost of his mouth over her neck. The taste of her painted lips on a rim of crystal. Hair feathering over his fingers, the scent of her body, and the thrum of her pulse tugging at his heart with longing. Filched moments clutched around and within him, lust coiled like a snake in his gut, rearing its head between his legs. A call of arousal demanding to be answered - painfully, without another to share in his release.

He shifted on his cot, loosely draped in the delicate, tight-woven sheets that slipped over his scales as he rolled onto his back, throwing an arm behind his head in frustration. All the meditation and control in the galaxy would not be enough tonight. Like that sinful sip of tequila, his blood was on fire in a way he could not ignore.

Cool air met his scales as he pulled the sheets back, uncaring when his calves tangled within them. Alone and aroused, he would do as his body willed.

Memories welding together behind closed eyes, conjuring visions to answer his need. A slick tongue traced over his - a kiss. A common intimacy that he burned so brightly for, and had been denied to him for what felt like a lifetime. She might hesitate at the first touch, a breath of uncertainty when she met the split of his tongue, unknowing how much he ached to spoil her with that small perk of interspecies diversity. He drank of her mouth, absorbing her heat as he glided one palm over his length in teasing strokes.

As she so often was on the battlefield, the woman he imagined was demanding. Soft, unblemished hands pushed him back, fisting in his clothes as she, lost in her burdened reality, both pushed and pulled them together. Would she think of her lover? Of endless nights entangled in the long limbs of the famously obstinate Vakarian? In truth, Thane did not care. In his selfishness, it mattered not whose hands she thought of when he finally drew back the long elegant robe she so loved to taunt him with. Watching the fabric slip past her shoulders to reveal skin so bright it was nearly blinding in the dim light of his quarters. She was untarnished, even by the freckles that once dusted the high points of her features. The way she hated her body was something he understood all too well. A product of another's vision, a construct and tool to be used by others, with little regard for her dispositions. A weapon financed and fabricated by Cerberus. She obsessed over her body not out of vanity, but in rage. Such had begun their training.

He wanted fiercely to call upon any memory of her hands on him, but he had precious few. As yet, she hadn't managed to land a single blow on him in all of their sparrings. But little by little, she was getting stronger. Almost imperceptibly so. His grip tightened around his length at the thought - hovering over the phantom taste of her on his tongue, the beguiling wrap of her fingers around the neck of a glass bottle. She knew her strength, knew exactly what she was doing. The way she toyed with him, oh, it made his breath catch. Tempt me, touch me.

He wanted her to overpower him, to trail those supple human fingers over the hard planes of his body as she took her pleasure from him any wretched way she chose. Her soft hand coiling around his shaft, a thumb smoothing his own weeping seed over the head of his length. He gripped himself harder, scales beginning their familiar bite into his flesh.

It wasn't enough. No. He wanted more.

Alone, yet weighted down with the shame of indulgence, he paused and reached beneath his cot, searching the small compartment that contained his personal effects. From it, he produced a single leather glove, turning it over in consideration. He disliked wearing gloves, the material impeding finer sensations he preferred to feel through his bare hands when striking for another's life. But they were a tool like any other in his arsenal. Useful for eliminating evidence and now, apparently, for self-gratification.

He couldn't have her hands on him, but he could have this. Soft and worn from wear, the material slid over his palm and fingers and he reached back into the darkness for himself.

It was different. Not quite what he imagined of her hands, but different enough from the texture of his own scales. He squeezed, a quiet sigh drifting from his throat as he tested his grip, repositioning his fingers, letting the sparse fluid of his sheath accumulate in his palm. Touch me, he willed her. Take from me what you please.

In the long years after he'd failed as a husband and a father, the pull of guilt and desire was but an old companion to him. He bore his sin on strong shoulders, praying to his gods, to his wife, to Shepard, for patience and the gentle hand of forgiveness. But even he, merely a man, could succumb to the base desires of sentience. She was imperfect and wracked with loneliness just as he was.

In the maelstrom of his thoughts, her beautiful, terrible wrath and desire descended on him like a drug.

He found it to be true that Shepard did, as he had heard, “fight like a krogan in a bar fight." That tactic had carried her this far, but there was much more to learn. With each day spent in rigor and training, he showed her how to control her fury. It wouldn't be long before she would learn to recognize an opening when he gave it to her. Beneath the lust of his own touch, he could think of little else than to tempt her with feigned vulnerability, if only just to see how far she would go. To let her catch his feet with a sweep of her leg and knock him flat on his back, all for the opportunity to peel him out of his training leathers and shatter the last barriers between them.

Such a union would destroy their delicate alliance. But here in his thoughts, any perceived fragility was his alone to endure. His mind raced with the thought of her entrapping him on the sparring mat, giving himself over in sweet surrender just as he’d done with her lipstick-imprinted well of liquor. How eagerly he would be her captive, submitting his pounding heart and body to her exploitations until she arrived at the manifestation of his need, screaming for her touch, twitching beneath her hands.

He cared little for how she took him. In his heart of hearts, he wanted to worship her, to show her how even reborn into a frighteningly reconstructed body she was still everything he ever saw in her and more. He wanted to taste her lips, her flesh, to map the broad expanses of her with his hands and tongue, to see her skin darken with the distinct human blood-flush of wanting…

But she would never let him. That privilege was for her lover alone, the handsome turian with indigo clan markings the same color as Shepard's lacquered fingernails. Thane's place was beneath her, and even that very thought lit his nerves afire with wanting as he drew out his pleasure with his gloved hand, aching for her to make him dance in her palm as she did when he bested her in combat drills.

If he couldn't worship her, he would more than willingly submit to her control. How he wanted to be the one to satiate the desperate woman within her. To see the visceral spread of her thighs around him, luscious hips rolling like waves over him as she shook loose her robe, and with it, the shackles of her desolation. His eidetic memory pulled forth every gasp and cry she had unwittingly fed him as they trained together. Her sonorous human voice played over his nerves, singing into his blood with every pump of his hand, a soundtrack to the Shepard he'd constructed in his fantasy. Her wide-shut eyes, wanton in the throes of pleasure, drawing him into her depths to answer the sanguine howl in her blood. The feral woman he knew, unleashed and longing to fill the void of two missing years with just a single shred of affection as she held out for her chosen lover.

Even if she overlaid him with vivid imaginings of turian plates and talons, Thane trembled to be the vessel of her desperate need. How badly he wanted to give her this. Heart pounding, he painted her in his mind with too-smooth skin the color of sun-soaked Rakhana sands. Speckled with tiny beads of sweat that carved trails down the valley between her unbound breasts with every rise and fall of her body. Her hair stuck to her dampened, vulnerable throat, still wrapped in a delicate lace of scale-borne irritation from their training. Her eyes fell closed, darkened lashes sweeping across flushed cheeks as she reached between her legs to galvanize her pleasure.

He lost himself to the vision of her face as she used his body to reach her peak of ecstasy. She was wild, clawing back her humanity through animalistic impulse that shredded her reality for what few blissful seconds her biology would allow - and it finished him. Buried to the hilt inside her, he surrendered with every nerve in his body. He choked back a shout, neck pitched back, vicious sparks of need pouring through the conduit of his lust and claiming her in a torrent of screaming, feral possession. For a split second of eternity, he was lost, trembling before the avatar of his own carnal lust, wondering if he could ever be forgiven for wanting her so savagely.

And then it was over.

Minutes drifted by as he laid still, assuaged yet afflicted with the sin of indulgence. Gods forgive him, he wanted her. And perhaps even more forbidden than the pleasures of her body was the thought of holding her.

Indeed, the simple intimacies of loving someone seemed by far the most out of his reach. To stroke the sweat-slicked skin of her back, nudging his face into her damp hair as she laid atop him panting, satisfied, permeated with his essence and high on his venom. The rosy, burning flavor of her venomous gift lingered in his mouth. So close and yet nearly further away than she had ever been, pushing and pulling him in heartache.

Slowly, as he tidied himself, his phantom lover evaporated. Away she wisped, searching for the embrace of her wayward lover, wherever he might be.

His heart rate slowed as the seconds slipped by. 0400. Training in two hours.

[dalamusrex]

Is there any in-game music (or, if not, any other instrumental piece) which you associate with Dalamus?

Thanks for the question! I’m not particularly good at picking out soundtracks in games, so I went to listen to the soundtrack to give my thoughts better. I wouldn’t assign any of them to Dal in particular, but I can let you know what certain tracks make me think of as I listen!:

Here’s a link to the soundtrack on Youtube that I used! Timestamps to each is in the description: The Elder Scrolls V Skyrim | Full Original Soundtrack

From Past to Present is particularly nostalgic for me, and beautiful enough for me to want to sit and just listen and let emotions wash over me. It’s a slow song, calm, but also contemplative. Taking time to rest but also knowing that one can’t sit still forever, they have to move forward even if the future is uncertain. But just… 5 more minutes, okay. Then we’ll go. It makes me think of Dal–who came from decades and decades of living a life on the move–now having a permanent residence, and occasionally taking the time to sit down and realize how far he’s come. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, but sometimes it’s nice to have the luxury of just being able to pause and take in everything around him. It’s difficult to regret a past that brought him here.

Unbroken Road actually seems to match how I feel Dal’s energy is during Guild Jobs. He’s in his element but also careful. It’s energetic but not chaotic, tense but not panicked, suspenseful but predictable. He knows what he’s doing but can’t afford to let down his guard.

Silent Footsteps makes me think of a nocturnal hunt. A vampire in the night, hiding in shadows, eyes reflecting light as red eyeshine if seen at just the right angle. Soft footsteps you think you hear, but when you listen they suddenly stop. The feeling that you’re being watched, and that danger is imminent, although you can’t pinpoint the source. The deep sort of rumbling bass in the background makes me think of how, when frightened, sometimes you hear a rumbling that drowns out everything else and creates a sense of unease. As the song fades out, it’s as if the threat has passed, although you’re not sure how you know, just that suddenly it feels safe to breathe again. Into Darkness has similar vibes.

Secunda sounds like the relief of returning home after being away, either on a Guild Job or other occasion that took him away from Riften for a prolonged period of time. When things are still on his mind and the action is fresh but he just wants to lay in bed and decompress, perhaps hug a loved one and hear them say “Welcome back.” Seeing smiling faces and warm expressions, knowing he can relax. The Streets of Whiterun has a similar vibe.

Towers and Shadows makes me think of approaching a destination for a Guild Job, apprehensively making a plan and scouting out the area.

I can’t find hardly any instrumentals in his playlist, sadly, which is somewhat ironic because his Modern Verse self absolutely loves listening to instrumentals and classical music. I tend to listen for lyrics that tell a story or describe feelings, and attach those to him. When I do listen to something without lyrics, I tend to associate him with violin and piano, and slow somber rhythms to reflect his angsty mindscape. But the pieces with faster beats are good for action like battle. Here are a few I found that I really like!:

ReallySlowMotion - "Pandemic" : Makes me think of preparation for battle, very determined and strong beats.

Really Slow Motion - Sunder: Starts out somber and contemplative, makes me think of a quiet moment between beats of chaos when he feels low or overwhelmed by emotion. Takes a moment for himself to actually feel it in private. Then it’s time to get up and get shit done.

Audiomachine - Tangled Earth: Makes me think of him and his loved ones, his friends, family, and what he’s willing to do for them. The ups and downs. How far he’s willing to go to defend them, protect them. How much he’s willing to go beyond his “nature” to keep them safe. I think of battles and bloodshed, when thoughts of his loved ones and going home to them are what’s able to keep him fighting and make sure he wins despite exhaustion.

Twelve Titans Music - Monolith: Kinda makes me think of a battle, but in a “Villain Reveal” sort of way for Dalamus, where an enemy has pissed him off sufficiently that he drops all guise of being mortal and the enemy suddenly realizes they’re not just dealing with an ordinary dark elf. Not quite Boss Music but definitely heading into that territory.

I also like the sort of "haunting" tone and buzz that comes from a Hurdy Gurdy when playing darker music, but can't find one I'd associate with him in whole.

I’m realizing late that these might not count as “instrumental” but..... it’s all I got, boss!

[casnextdoor]

PAPER HEART

———————

a/n; i wrote this solely because i have fallen in love with jk’s cover of tori kelly’s paper hearts . i bawled my eyes out to it while reading ‘under the sky in room 553 i discovered you and i’ it was VERY ANGSTY and i was sad . 10/10 def recommend. anywho enjoy

———————————

The lights around the stage were bright, blinding. The fans were loud, a consistent chant of Jungkook’s stage name the only thing being heard in the stadium. Even after two months of seeing and hearing this night after night, he still couldn’t believe this was all for him. It was always at the end of his set, when he’d sit on the wooden stool in the dead centre of the stage, that he’d hear your voice. He’d hear you telling him he deserved this and more. You were supposed to be here.

He waited for the stadium to quiet, and just like every night prior, the fans' loud roar turned into ambient muttering. So with a heavy heart, he deposited a guitar pick from his pocket and started experimentally picking and strumming at the acoustic guitar that sat comfortably on his thighs. He knew the cords like the back of his hand -- having played it for you more times than he could count -- so he found his rhythm with ease.

It felt like just yesterday when you’d sat with him in his studio, helping him create the song that would break his heart every time he played it.

Your smile. That's what really caught his attention that day. Everyday since the two of you had met, he’d picked another physical feature of yours to obsess over every time he’d see you. Your perfect set of pearly whites with a little bit of an overbite had his heart beating recklessly against his ribcage today. The septum piercing hanging right above your cupid's-bow fell over your lips when they’d pulled up into that signature grin of yours. He’d die happy if it were the last thing he’d ever seen, he’d decided.

You’re guitar -- the black one he’d gifted you sophomore year as an early birthday gift -- hung loosely over your shoulder in its case. It made him smile that you’d kept after so long -- that you’d kept him around for so long.

“Okay, Noona. Why are we here?” Jungkook wouldn’t lie, he had never gotten dressed as quickly as he had when he’d received a text from you telling him to meet you at his studio. He almost ran out of the dorms with no shoes on -- he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“Remember when you told me you couldn’t write? When you said you couldn’t find lyrics to go to the guitar piece you composed?” You’d excitedly plopped down on the black leather couch on the other side of his studio; you’d picked that couch.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you skeptically. He didn’t know where this was going. Looking back now, he should’ve had a clue; this was such a you thing to do, after all. But at the time, he had no idea where this conversation or impromptu meet up was headed.

“Well, fret no longer, my friend. I spent all night writing you lyrics.” Your smile was so big and your hands were a bit fidget-y as you unzipped your guitar case; a tell-tale sign that you had been drinking coffee again. It was painfully endearing that you’d stayed up all night just writing him lyrics. And he found it absolutely adorable that instead of waiting until the morning to call him, you’d texted him at two in the morning, demanding that he meet you. He had to purse his lips to refrain from smiling too hard.

“You do realize it's almost three in the morning, right, Flower?” Jungkook’s amused chuckle caused an embarrassing amount of heat to course through your body. You nodded sheepishly, hands gripping nervously at the neck of your guitar. You’d pray he couldn’t see how nervous you were so you instead pulled your lips up into a scowl and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Do you wanna hear ‘em or not?” There was no real edge to your voice, and Jungkook knew you’d just been looking for a way to channel your nerves into something less embarrassing than a nervous chuckle.

He nodded, leaning back into his rolling office chair and had he always been so big? His gaze never left you and you could almost feel the weight of his eyes on you. You’d avert your gaze away from him and down toward the strings of your guitar, in fear that if you look at him, he’d hear the loud love confessions your brain was screaming at him. You grumbled at him to record a voice memo -- you were not going to give him your lyric book.

You’d picked and strummed at the guitar until you’d found and stayed with the melody you were looking for. You played the sequence for a bit longer just to make sure you wouldn’t mess up. You figured you were ready after about thirty seconds of just blue music. So you cleared your voice and started singing.

Remember the way you made me feel, such young love but,

Jungkook realized that no matter what you’d written, he would’ve loved it anyway -- it was you, after all.

Something in me knew that it was real. Frozen in my head.

Pictures I’m living through for now

Trying to remember all the good times

He could listen to you for hours. There was something so serene, he thought, about listening to the love of your life sing a song they’d written just for you.

Our life was cutting through so loud. Memories are playing in my dull mind.

Has his gaze always been this heavy? Has your heart always beat this fast for him? Have you always wanted someone to love you back this much? No, you supposed you hadn’t. But there’s a first for everything.

I hate this part, paper hearts. And I’ll hold a piece of yours.

Don’t think I would just forget about it.

Hoping that you won’t forget about it.

That was four years ago. Four years ago. He remembered staring at you while you sang the entire song. He remembered just watching you in silence for five minutes. He remembered the way you bit down at your lip and avoided his gaze like the black plague. He remembered leaning forward and pulling your lip from under your teeth. He remembered the way he brushed his nose against yours and telling you -- his flower -- how much he loved it, the song. He remembered kissing you and taking you right there in the studio. He remembered just how gorgeous you were in such a euphoric state. He remembered he told you he loved you more times than he could count that night.

And he remembered the chaos that ensued after, leading you to giving him full custody and access to the song and moving out of the city. Just to get away from him.

He hadn’t sung the song or even recorded it since. He listened to the voice memo with the song and your beautiful euphoric sounds on it every night for two months. He’d cried to that memo. He’d gotten off to that memo. And soon he had to move it to the archives; he wouldn’t allow himself to break anymore.

A part of moving on is making amends. He was in your town because of touring. And before he knew what he was doing, he was adding the song to the performance sequence and shooting you a text.

I’m in your city. For a tour of course. And I’m singing paper hearts for the first time tonight. And I want you to sing it with me. If your email is the same I’ll send you a guest pass. You don’t have to come, but… I would love it if you did :)

You’d left him on delivered. You hadn’t even opened the message. He sent the pass anyway, hoping to the heavens that you would receive it.

He strummed at the guitar strings, trying to keep his eyes from scanning the crowd for you. But when he started singing he couldn’t help but look for those gorgeous eyes and that bright smile he hadn’t seen in four years.

Everything is gray under these skies, wet mascara

Hiding every cloud under a smile, when there’s cameras

And I just can’t reach out to tell you

That I always wonder what you’re up to

That isn’t my voice, he thought, eyebrows creasing in confusion as he looked toward the stage manager who was normally off on the right wing.

And there you were. You were still as beautiful as he remembered. Just as breathtaking as he remembered.

You walked toward him, steps slow and calculated as you stopped just behind him, placing a soft hand onto his shoulder and pressing your front to his back.

Your hand slid down his chest as you used his physical form to ground you and keep you level headed; he was just as good looking as he was all those years ago and you couldn’t help but replay that night in the studio as you reached the next verse.

Pictures I’m living through for now, Trying to remember all the good times

Our life was cutting through, Memories are playing in my dull mind

I hate this part, paper hearts. And I’ll hold a piece of yours

Don’t think I would just forget about it. Hoping that you won’t forget about it.

Jungkook stopped singing completely -- he loved it when you sang this part.

I live through pictures as if I was right there by your side

But you’ll be good without me and if I could just give you some time I’ll be alright.

And then there was nothing. No screaming fans, no guitar, no singing. It was just you. And him. In the middle of this big sea called the universe. Because you’d come back to him. You’d found your way back to him and he decided right then he wouldn’t let you go.

So with the hand that was just gripping the neck of the guitar, he was lightly gripping the back of your neck, pulling you down firmly. He brushed his nose against yours before whispering:

“It's beautiful, Flower. Where’d you learn to sing like that?” You laughed at that.

“I learned from the best, Kookie.” And then his lips were on yours and the entire world really disappeared.

[washymylifeaway]

KyouHaba Fanfic recs

Hiya! How much do I love KyouHaba? Yes. This is one of my favorite ships and one of my comfort ships <3 KyouHaba has got some amazing fics, so even if they aren’t really your thing, you should still read this :D Anyway, onto the recs!

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading (esp since KyouHaba usually deals with darker topics and not all of them tag/warn for it!) and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

CP:

Close to the Chest by darkmagicalgirl (T) 61.1k // THIS ONE man anyway I just love the progression of their relationship and the way this fic is written! The way we really go into who Yahaba is really what makes this fic great! Also there's some slightly ~angsty~ IWAOI so look out for that hehe.

Police Dog by surveycorpsjean (E) 34.9k // if you’re super against like any *furry* implications, pass this one LOL. But TBH I don’t like furries, but this one was pretty great (hence why it’s here LOL) and they make me laugh. Also I really like some of the head cannons for Kyoutani in this one and the writing style is super freakin’ good, so it’s definitely worth the read~~~ Pls CHECK TAGS AND WARNINGS cause there are a couple REAL spicy scenes in this one ;)

Team Mom by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (T) 2.7k // so as I was going through this tag (because that’s what I do LOL), I remembered this fic and I love it. Like yes Yahaba is the fear factor and yes Kyoutani is the DAD. I really like the team dynamics in this one, and the first years make me laugh pls.

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k // I love this fic and when I starting looking for this ship, it was the first one I thought of hehe. I really love magic and their interactions are so cute and the PLANTS ARE DOING THE MOST. Pls read both in the series, cause domestic KyouHaba is best KyouHaba ngl LOL. I love the plants, and if you read the second one, someone tell the trees to stop bullying Yahaba.

Sixth Time’s the Charm by tsumekakusu (T) 2k // ok THIS was SO FREAKING funny, please Yahaba how dumb can you get LOL. The number thing made me facepalm so hard, but the ending was cute and that’s all that matters, right?

Sleep by GangstaCrow (T) 5.5k // the plot twist…. omg…. I had to pause and take a moment of silence for the people suffering because of LL… Poor Kyoutani….. But this is a really funny but cute fic at the same time :D

a little bit funny, this feeling inside by postcanons (G) 5.4k // PLEASE THIS ONE omg crow matchmaker ftw. Like I said, I really love magic and this one is just so freaking funny. Also, very informational curtesy of one Kyoutani Kentarou.

meet me at the fucking pit (and let me hold your hand) by anyadisee (T) 5.4k // IF THE TITLE ISN’T MAKING YOU LAUGH ALREADY WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING????? (JK but am I really?) This was SO funny and it KILLED me,,, like all the conspiracies and how everyone was so seriously invested in it. Yes, CHAOS.

if not, winter by knightswatch (M) 54k // YES THIS FIC. THIS ONE RIGHT HERE. I love the development of their relationship,,, IT’S SO GOOD. Like when our boy Yahaba goes on that really friendly field trip and Kyoutani takes matters into his own hands? UGH YES. And when they visit? CUTE OMG. Yes this fic is it.

Isolated Parts by darkmagicalgirl (T) 3.3k // I love this fic cause old men KyouHaba are funny (fight those refs) and I love the nonlinear plot. It really adds another layer to the fic itself, and slowly unraveling the plot through the different years was SO IUAHFJF. I really loved it and piecing everything together :’)

Magicked by HoneyBeeez (T) 8.4k // CHECK TAGS, I love KyouHaba Hogwarts fics, and this one is SO good! We do love some slightly oblivious Yahaba and fake delinquent Kyoutani LOL. Though there is some violence and homophobia so if that puts you off, steer clear of this fic :)

stardust by InkCaviness (G) 1.4k // like I said, in love with KyouHaba and hogwarts fics, anyway,, this one was so short and sweet! It’s full of fluff, and honestly, if you like KyouHaba, read this entire series cause I really love these KyouHaba works :’)))))

New:

knightswatch // GREAT writer, but most of their KyouHaba works are explicit/mature, so be careful as you go through their works! My fav T one? all you have is your fire by knightswatch (T) 6.4k, but they’ve written some of the best KyouHaba I’ve read (they’re just mostly M)!

kiyala // another amazing writer and their works usually alternate between G and E LOL. But, all of their Gs are amazing, and rn my favorite was between Room To Grow by kiyala (G) 50k or Cost by kiyala (G) 1.1k cause it was either secret doggy relationship or magic LOL. But all of their fics are worth reading, and there’s a large variety of AUs!

snoqualmie // I love this writer, but they don’t have much KyouHaba (enough that I would put them here though LOL) My favorite? Mixed Signals by snoqualmie (T) 7.8k // it’s a really cute fic and I love the hc that Kyoutani has the good family! It has like a semi continuation (I think it’s in the same verse as it), but Jan. 6 features the sisters again! (Also yes for veggie fiend Kyoutani,)

tale as old as time by crossbelladonna (series) 30.2k // AHH this series is fully of such good KyouHaba fic!!!! I really love all of them but my favorite is through open doors by crossbelladonna (T) 4.3k // I love soulmate AUs and salty Yahaba is best Yahaba. Also at the end when the coffee incident happens, I love Kyoutani :’)

Words Not Spoken by Dogsocks (series) 51.5k // this is a continuous fic series (meaning all the fics are in the same verse and related to one another), but it’s so FREAKING good and I love reading it!!! It’s got some mentions of ABUSE, and things like that so please read the tags carefully!!!

kyouhaba week by InkCaviness (series) 6.7k // I loved KyouHaba week (all of them are just such AMAZING fics and tropes) and my favorite from this list was stardust by InkCaviness (G) 1.4k // I mentioned what I loved from it above, but it truly is a great fic :D

Kyouhaba Trash Week 2016 by HoneyBeeez (series) 28.9k // all three of these fics are SO good. I literally cannot choose a favorite because I loved all of them :’) Like no joke, just go read all of them because singing Kyoutani? Yes please. And also like the tattoo one was SO ajksdhfkjshdfjkln I LOVED IT AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE HOSPITAL ONE. I loved loved loved the ending, and her going to the school? UGH ADORABLE. These fics were some of my absolute favorite KyouHaba fics!

Venom and Vulnerability by darkmagicalgirl (E) 48.3k // OAAJKSFNKJ I LOVE THIS ONE YES. The concept? AMAZING. Execution? FLAWLESS. This is a GREAT fic and it’s done SO WELL,,,, I realllllly loved the plot in this and their teamwork is making the dream work! WARNING check the tags and warnings cause there’s smut, (non kinky) bondage, and death!

it's tradition. by hicsvntdracones (T) 5.5k // this fic made me want to die from second hand embarrassment. GOD, the awkwardness and really the way they went HARD on those dares PLEASE. If you don’t mind feeling embarrassed (and even if you do) go read this fic cause it’s V funny and the comedy factor cancels out the embarrassment LOL (does it? That’s what I’m tellin myself LOL).

An Equivalent Exchange by Chibs (E) 14.5k // PLEASE THIS WAS FUNNY,,,, like chill Kyoutani, Yahaba is trying his hardest okay? BUT NOT HARD ENOUGH anyway it’s a happy ending in the long run and no one dies :D how nice is that <3 (but the baby agenda? yessssir.)

The Wall Thing by rideahorse (M) 6.8k // THE TENSION :0,,, but I love how many fics go based on that one KyouHaba wall slam in the middle of the Karasuno match LOL. Also, I love the dynamics they have in this one and the way fighting ~is their communication~ Some smut is here so WARNING and they do something about the tension LOL obviously :))) Constantly curing KyouHaba is good, happy Kyouhaba.

Sixteen by surveycorpsjean (E) 13.4k // Yahaba is a basic btch and Kyoutani does football LOL. Honestly, I think that’s a pretty good summary (jk) but what’s a fic without some good tension ;) Also, cheerleader Yahaba lives in my brain rent free and I would like to propose it live in your head as well :D Aren’t I such a kind soul~

Safe in Your Hands by shions_heart (T) 8.9k // um soft KyouHaba? I think yes,,,, this also do be a common trope in the KyouHaba realm, but I’m not complaining,,,, it’s a good trope :) There IS ABUSE in this fic so big warning here! Check the tags and warnings! But the real mvp is the girl on the bus and points to Yahaba for playing spot the difference unintentionally.

The Sweetest Smile by FindingSchmomo (T) 6.6k // cake making! Yes! Bakery! Yes! It’s a great time and think about it, Kyoutani, our baby, working in a bakery making cakes? UGH my heart :’D Yes Oikawa is right, a cute grumpy puppy making flowers (CUTE VERY CUTE) and it doesn’t help that Kyoutani looks like a total bad boy in this fic too :DDDDDD

wear your love like it's made of hate by parenthetic (renaissance) (T) 3.3k // we are starting this off with the alt title totally worked and I would’ve read it either way LOL. Also, the ending was funny and thinking about why everyone was wearing it would’ve been so confusing to the other teams (also shout out to Yahabas line and Kyoutani calling his eyeliner a whore). But yes to random sexual tension, this is KyouHaba nation.

captain's orders by whitemiists (G) 3.7k // okay we love Watari in KyouHaba nation (surprised I haven’t talked about loving Watari yet but better now than never right?), but also Yahaba being messenger for Kyoutani (baby first years are ajhsajdfh). I love this trope and also I love rooftop lunch crew is yes :D

Running In Place by cleiioo (T) 33.3k // GUYS OMG THIS FIC. CAUTION ABUSE AND RUNNING AWAY AND BAD PARENTS SELF DEPRECATION I COULD GO ON BUT BOTTOM LINE IS BE CAREFUL READ TAGS! This fic is UGHHH YES. First, twenty questions make another appearance, and DUCKS. Yes, ducks. But this fic is just written really well, and honestly Kyoutani might be a tad bit ooc, but it’s okay, you don’t even notice. Distracted by the amazing writing :)

Something About Fate by patteh (T) 4.6k // SOULMATES! And then they were soulmates :D I love a good soulmate denial AU, and this is no exception. I loved Yahana’s backstory in this, and I think it set up a great framework for the plots progression! Also, the ending was really cute (and we all know, I’m a sucker for a cute ending :D)

toeing the line by masi (T) 2.7k // the mcDonalds cause WE’RE LOVING IT! But this was a fun read cause a. it goes pretty fast and b. communication exists? ANyway, I like the ending cause Yahaba is one smooooooth btch! It’s just a lot of banter (playful and not), and I’d read tags jic for this fic :)

bumblebee by shizuoh (T) 1.5k // he got sht on by a bumblebee. Points for creativity Yahaba, points. But this is just a fun, random AU where pepperoni on pizza is a universal aggrievance (esp the infused on cheese kind,,, I feel you Yahaba), we disown furries (for good reason), and you confront people staring at you! This IS a flirting 101 textbook. (also yes Yahaba, murder Mattsun!)

The art of fighting in heels by boxofwonder (T) 8.7k // yeah don’t question this fic. It’s like,,, you just kinda,,,, well,,,,,, I mean who doesn’t want to read about Iwa fighting in heels? Like you’re not thinking about magical guy Iwa? Maybe you should. (the way the summary has nothing to do with KyouHaba, I swear they’re a main component, but no thoughts just Iwa in sailor moon cosplay.)

yahaba vs. the miyagi captains by blessings (T) 3.7k // I love this hc and I wish there was more of it because Yahaba picking fights with everyone is fun and I like the chaos :D Like honestly, the creativity of some of the burns? Just amazing, it filled me with serotonin. I’m not kidding :0 But like, Kyoutani having to make sure that he doesn’t go overboard was askfkahf.

Love the One You Hold by shions_heart (T) 3k // f tough KyouHaba, I’m here for the soft, loving KyouHaba. Like mushy feelings KyouHaba, the kind which makes me feel singler than I already am single. Reassuring of feelings and ajsfdhla KyouHaba. The ending is KYAAA!!! Caution for implied bad parents!

a thousand and one roses by rorarot (T) 3.4k // I love florist Kyoutani and it’s honestly a crime I didn’t recommend more florist Kyoutani fics :( Points for the pun, Yahaba, points. Also, the progression of their relationship was YES, and this fic was SUPER cute :D

It Takes Two by Poteto (G) 24.1k // IT’S COHESIVE KYOUHABA WEEK! I really loved this fic and I enjoyed how they incorporated each prompt into each day! There is homophobia and running away so be careful when reading this fic, and check the tags!

So I Like Your Dog by helloyesIamtrash (G) 4.8k // FIRST, this is within a series of soulmate AU fics (all in the same verse) and SECOND, this was really good! I loved the way Yahaba’s family are a bunch of late bloomers and how YAHABA DIDN’T LET THE MF RUN AWAY. Yes communication, WE LOVE AND STAN.

but tonight i'll need you to stay by InkCaviness (G) 2.2k // the feels were strong with this one :’( Pushing my SOFT KyouHaba agenda. But I LOVE this one for the feels and also because they don’t dance around it. Just straight forward, random a confessions. It’s a great time. But also, I can’t believe he slipped LOL.

Down River Road by carafin (G) 4.4k // I love list fics, I think they’re great and I think I might just have a thing for lists in general (LOL). But also, I love the growth both of them undergo over time and the interactions with Oikawa in KyouHaba fics are always fun :)

I (Heart) You by darkmagicalgirl (T) 3.6k // I really like this fic. Like REALLY like/love. Maybe it’s the ending where Yahaba goes ham on that one guy. Or maybe it’s the magic. I think it’s just cause it’s written spectacularly. But no seriously, it’s a great fic and I really loved the AU :D

Five Times Kyoutani Failed to Say 'I love You' (And One Time He Didn't) by patteh (T) 3k // a 5+1! Yes! TBH I don’t understand the importance of saying ily to your significant others (maybe it’s just because I don’t understand romance very well LOL someone explain it to me), but if it’s important to them, IT’S IMPORTANT TO ME. Also, Kyoutani is dog agenda, full force ahead.

Baby steps (or 'Yahaba's guide to applying eyeliner on a grumpy puppy') by ghostsgf (G) 1.5k // more Yahaba and eyeliner fics! Of course :D If you can’t tell, KyouHaba nation and I really love Kyoutani + eyeliner, so yes. Eyeliner. But also, fractured arms and toilet adventures!

baby don't hurt me by orphan_account (M) 4k // LET ME BEGIN THIS WITH THE A/N AT THE END. YES I AGREEEE. Also SMUT alert but like nothing really happens? And again, while I don’t 100% get the ily thing, this one makes more sense to me and I can see why Yahaba got angry. We love crying boys though ahaha.

Retrograde by dreyars (T) 19.5k // AJFJLSFJLASD ANGST THE ANGST AND I- I love amnesia fics, they have such GREAT angst potential (which was totally used in this fic YES!) and UGH this fic. The feels you go through while reading this but ALSO THE ENDING! YES I LOVE. IN LOVE. THEY’RE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR.

restless by Crawlingthroughashes (T) 2.4k // PLEASE the petty Yahaba agenda is back and the way I ajfhdjkadshlf when he started his plan. BRB CRYING (of laughter ofc). Also the CONFRONTATION. Smooth Yahaba, oh so very mf smoooooth (very much so nailed it). Sugar high trick-or-treater in bunny slippers.

The Time Yahaba gained a boyfriend by sammysosa157 (T) 3.8k // PLEASE I saw the post for this fic and it was SO funny! I really loved this prompt, and the execution of it was done really well. Boo for weird food combinations, though ig if you’re in college and you’re broke, you gotta do what you gotta do :/

wanna give you a kiss by Slumber (T) 2.8k // kith give kithes muah muah (omg I’m so sorry you had to read that no regrets tho ahaha only shame). But this fic is SO cute and boyfriend chicken is fun :D Like the fluff in this fics is just so AJKKJAF and like Watari knows best.

Touch by tetskuroo (T) 2.4k // aihdjk PLEASE. This is SOFT! KYOUTANI! and non a hole but pushy! YAHABA! There is HUGGING cause WHY NOT! But the soft Kyoutani agenda is getting pushed hard today LOL. I mean the mans starts to turns the waters works ons. What more could you possibly need? (other than a cuddle session cause why tf not >:( and me to write normally LOL)

what the night does to the day by deathbyglamour (G) 9.9k // AHH HOGWARTS! I realized I forgot to add this fic to the Hogwarts list and I was so angry at myself. The potion version of our get along shirt :) I loved this fic and their relationship development was lovely :DDDD

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back by Asimi_Shadowborn (T) 30.6k // I love magic AUs and this was ahdjsjjfjs. The trope was amazing, the execution was flawless, and the communication? Nearly nonexistent just how we like it :’) it’s a great read and you’ll regret nothing.

Baby, I bought a dragon by tetsuskitten (T) 1.1k // AJKSFHKJ WITCHES. I love them being witches/warlocks cause IT’S AN AMAZING TROPE DUH. But like the dragon made me laugh, the conman Kuroo is KJAFN. But yes, THERE’S ANOTHER FIC AND IT’S AJSHKJASF YES READ <33333 (why didn’t I just put it as a series, cause I forgot and then I got lazy, leave me be.)

Thorne-blessed by fish_wifey (T) 19.4k // (again, another that HAS ANOTHER FIC but then I was too lazy to transport it up to the series section deal with it.) But THIS YES. First tattoo artist Kyoutani is a sight to see. But also, Yahaba is baby. And like the ending of how it all got resolved was so satisfying and the conflict execution was really creative :D CAUTION FOR THIS ONE, some bullying and violence-ish!

what a wonderful kind of day by qingting (G) 1.2k // PLEASE. I love it when Kyoutani talks to animals, it fills me with joy. But also, ofc points to Yahaba for the new nickname, dog whisperer. Cute and I like it more than Mad Dog chan. Also, Kyoutani’s thoughts on Yahaba were funny and are worth the read LOL. I like pats too, Shiromaru.

what becomes of broken hearts by plumtrees (T) 8.1k // OOOOF some angst right here. Like I’m in paiiiiiiin. But you should read it so we can be in pain together :’D Like the way we had to witness the falling out AND the break up to be happy again. UGH. Just don’t think too much and jump in.

we both know what we know by Slumber (E) 4.7k // UHH EXPLICIT FOR A REASON LIKE WITHIN THE FIRST SECTION I THINK BUT THEN IT CONTINUES AHHAHA. But also, riling Kyoutani up and just teasing him in general? Fun times (at least Yahaba thinks so LOL). But like also, random thought but the comments on the (fake) IwaOi divorce made me laugh LOL.

new constellations by thealmostviki (G) 4.3k // reincarnation AU, but it’s like non linearish! It’s really good and the writing is very eloquent :D I really loved this fic and the ending was UGH adorable! I love references and the way they still feel things in the next lives :’) Milk and honey guys, milk and HONEY.

FINALLY DONE. WHEW. I hope you all enjoyed these fics, and ik my commentary got/was super bad but pls just pretend like you’re not seeing it. I swear once upon a time it was informational but now it’s just me writing random sht down LOL. Again, I love KyouHaba so this honestly was a lot of fun to make (even if I kept complaining about it) and I ended up not splitting the list hence why it’s so long! I hope I made all of you into KyouHaba lovers cause it’s one of my favorite ships :D

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Cast your mutuals but it’s only Lottie because it’s her birthday 🥳🎂

I just want to say that I see you, I hear you, and I’ll deliver (even tho I’m lazy and I could never do this if it wasn’t for you)

Cast your mutual ( @imdreamingwiththestars ) as...

Marvel Man — Ant Man, Scott Lang

Wait before you get mad hear me out! SCOTT LANG IS THE SEXIEST AVENGER! First off he’s fucking hilarious without even trying. Like HILARIOUS. Everything he says has me in stitches. Second, he’s a great fucking father— literally the best fucking father. Kinda like how you’re always telling me to drink water and to go to bed. Third, he’s adaptable! He can switch between superhero, commendable dad, friend, awkward, sexy— this man is everything and you are everything. Fourth, he’s a dork. And you can’t get mad at me for that because it’s not a jab— it’s the reason we’re friends. The scene in Ant Man and the wasp where he’s doing a thousand things while bored at home just screams Lottie and the way one moment you’re sending pictures of the bracelet you made and then the next your doing something entirely different. Finally he’s sexy— he’s hot as fuck and anyone who doesn’t think Paul Rudd— America’s true golden boy— is sexy then I don’t want to know you. He’s sexy not only because he’s just plain sexy with no substance (which he’s not and neither are you) but because of all the things I said before saying that he’s hot. This fucking DILF makes me want to be a MILF.

Marvel Woman — Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff

Chaos Queen bisexual witch with nerd boyfriend— sounds about right to me! No— you don’t have nerd boyfriend but he’s out there (and maybe his name is SCOTT LANG). She loves fiercely when it comes to family and feels like she’s dying when those she loves are hurt. Family relationships get rocky at times but would do absolutely anything for her found family. She has meltdowns that rock entire towns and then, in the next second, is fine. Maladaptive daydreamer who creates the realities she would rather be in and adds the extra creative flare that the rest of the people around her are missing. That town was suffering before she showed up and gave it the ol’ razzle dazzle. Like please, take over my mind anyday. Deals with my Agatha Harkness level drama with grace. Like oh shit I kidnap you and force you to relive trauma and you don’t kill me? Wow a queen. 100/10 would bang and, yes, that needed to be added because it’s an important attribute. Also when I picture Lottie’s marvel costuming I see red and I see corsets and that’s enough for me 😌

TVD Man — Kai Parker

No, you aren’t a sociopath but neither was Kai Parker!! He was a kid who’s family fucked him over in every way because he was different and then— when he lashed out after years of straight abuse— got locked up. He’s not crazy— he’s hurt and no one’s fucking listening. He’s made mistakes but everyone would rather say shit about him instead of looking at their own lives. At the end of the day no one was better than Kai Parker despite how much they would like to think they are. He appreciates the little things— snowflakes and good food and sharp knives. He’s charming and has a voice that makes me melt— I can picture him going for walks and sending me videos about his coffee and what he bought at target. He needs a hug and a vacation and an I’m sorry.

TVD Woman — Bonnie Bennet

Is it telling that I picked another witch? Possibly. Am I gonna do it again? Definitely. Bonnie Bennet is a badass despite the fact that literally everything goes against her. She isn’t a badass because it’s easy, she’s a badass because it’s in her fucking DNA. No one wants her to be a badass— even her grandma at some points hates her— but she can’t turn it off so she doesn’t. She shouldn’t turn it off. She’s level headed but oh boy when she gets angry fucking watch out. She’s ride or die for her friends but will put them in her place when she needs to. She’s the most powerful one but no one treats her like it?? Creative problem solver with a penchant to let her powers kinda slip from time to time until a building or two is on fire. Falls for the hottest people but also might fall for your brother. She is the hottest one— full sexy— and again, yes, that’s important.

TO Man — Marcel Gerard

It was a toss up between him and Vincent Griffith but I have made my choice. Marcel is the poster boy for found family but also for knowing when it’s right to separate and do his own thing. The true king of NOLA who has exquisite taste in music. He was kinda evil at the beginning but it really only made him sexy so?? He thought he was protecting his city and vamp fam and I think that’s reasonable. Cares deeply, is beyond loyal, and would kill for those he loves. Saves a dorky awkward gay from death and that goes without saying hey thank you ma’am dorky gay here thankful for you’re consistent messages in her inbox I would be dead on here without you. Accidentally acquires a child but becomes one of the best dads ever despite her temper and unpredictable powers. Has an on off relationship with an equally sexy blonde. Himbo CEO vibes and I think that’s lovely— like you. You are lovely.

TO Woman — Hayley Marshall

Fierce, sexy, hybrid who loves two men even though they makes her so damn angry. Family drama 100%, found family drama 200%. Wolf queen who appreciates the downtime of chilling in nature with a cold drink and good people. Would die for her family but before it even gets to that point she would kill anyone who got in between her and them. Would go to unknown lengths to do the literal impossible like bring her family back from the dead. Impeccable mother— impeccable friend— impeccable leader. IS SO FUCKING SEXY. Also kinda angsty lol.

A Favourite Song — Drops of Jupiter | Train

Despite what it may seem like, I didn’t choose this because I know it’s one of your faves. I chose it because when I think about you I think about little things. Dunkin donuts and bikini tops and mugs and pink purple blue bracelets and late night talks about nothing. The verses of this song talks about all the little things she does that makes him love her and that’s how I feel about you. I love you because you don’t say hi, you say things akin to “Finn Mikaelson deserves to feel sexy like the rest of his brothers” and I think this song has that energy.

A Favourite Movie — Treasure Planet

“You’re gonna’ rattle the stars, you are.”

A coming of age adventure story with an angsty main character and a happy ending— it’s perfect. Sometimes to find yourself you need to find a golden map, get your moms rich friend to fun your pirate ship, hire a sexy cat captain, and befriend a father figure whose also a villain. Sometimes you also have to let him get away at the end. It touches on themes of discovery, forgiveness, trauma, and self love. Jim is a capable sarcastic smart kid and his best friend is an awkward robot who talks too much— wow, it’s us. Please bring me to space school when you get accepted 😌

I hope this makes you smile on your birthday! I love you most 💕

[straykidsupdate]

Stray Kids Members on GO LIVE and Making the Music They Want to Make

There's bedlam in the kitchen, as K-pop disruptors Stray Kids wreak delicious havoc on a sterile commercial space. They dance around wildly, waving stainless steel pots and pans in the air and tossing freshly pressed napkins and imaginary ingredients with relish and abandon. In the forefront, fiery rapper Changbin serves up his own potent sauce with a pummeling verse, while dancer Lee Know attempts to stir fry a handful of what appear to be rose petals behind him. A marching band, their plumes high and faces unbothered, carries on amidst the mess — a visual manifestation of the heavy bass ostinato that immediately invades the senses. It sounds disorienting, maybe even slightly dangerous. It looks like chaos.

Welcome to "God's Menu" ("神메뉴").

The Korean boy group's latest single boasts a big, brassy hook laced with trap beats and an addicting refrain ("this is our tang, tang, tang, tang," they shout), a recipe that has become their signature dish. A sonic successor to last fall's explosive "Double Knot," the track teems with a tireless energy and their hallmark bravado. The video imagines the eight members as chefs who confidently concoct their own art from scratch. "Taste so good, everyone loves it," Han raps, in a mix of Korean and English. "All our dishes taste so strong."

The culinary metaphor is laid on thick, bolstered by a charismatic performance that includes Korean formalities like "네, 손��" (which translates to "yes, sir and ma'am" in English) and TikTok-certified choreography that incorporates mixing, frying, seasoning, and, most notably, chopping. But for a group that's been cooking up homemade beats and flavorful lyrics in their bedrooms long before their 2018 debut, it's a savory declaration that feels more than earned. "We just keep on making new things," leader Bang Chan sings, cleansing the palate with a sweet melody. "Because we're one of a kind."

They bring that same level of confidence and clarity to their first full-length album Go生, a title that combines the English word "go" with the Chinese character for "life" and showcases the group's penchant for clever wordplay. Pronounced go-saeng in Korean, it translates to "hardship." The English title, GO LIVE, reflects their desire to move forward without any lingering inhibition. Consider the 14-track LP a reintroduction to Stray Kids.

"We tried to not think too much," Bang Chan tells Teen Vogue from Seoul, South Korea, where he's currently huddled in a room with members Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, and I.N. It's late June, and they're in the middle of their first week of promotions for the album, which means early mornings, long nights, and a whirlwind of music show performances, interviews, radio shows, and virtual fan engagements. And yet, even as it nears midnight, the members, ranging in ages from 19 to 22, are still easily excitable. Australia-raised Bang Chan acts as the group's tireless translator, and despite recent concerns, his accent sounds as prominent as ever as he explains how Stray Kids adopted a fresh mindset in preparation for Go生. "Of course, we thought a lot about what to put in the album and how we wanted to make it, but we went with the flow," he says. "We wanted everything to feel a bit more raw."

Stray Kids made their official debut under JYP Entertainment with the riotous and self-produced "District 9," an angsty blend of hip-hop and EDM that would ultimately define the group's characteristic intensity, both musically and lyrically. It laid the foundation for 2018's I Am… trilogy of EPs, which focused heavily on the theme of identity as they charged away from systems that sought to control them. The Clé series followed in 2019, which threw Stray Kids head-first into the thorny, often exhausting labyrinth of adulthood. Bang Chan, Changbin, and Han, who comprise the group's in-house production trio, known as 3RACHA, write about their own experiences, etching their personal dreams and worries into a diverse discography that spans six EPs, multiple mixtape singles, and special releases. But with Go生, they've emerged with newfound perspective.

For years, their music was fixated on the idea of bulldozing through obstacles that stood in their way. They wanted to outrun their problems. Now, it's clear: Growing up isn't about overcoming anxieties and struggles. Instead, it's learning to live in spite of them — to run freely alongside them.

As a result, Go生 is a release bursting with color and vitality, a celebration of life's mercurial nature. There's a song for every craving, and a tracklist that demonstrates the members' prismatic talents as rappers and vocalists. "Easy" delivers boundless swagger over a trap beat (and it's already been immortalized on stan Twitter); "Airplane" is Stray Kids at their most relaxed, a chill summertime vibe that's also a tremendous showcase for singer Seungmin; main rapper and all-rounder Han lets his voice soar on "Phobia," an electronic-synth track that examines the paranoia of losing someone (it was also the final song added to the album); "TA" is all high energy and thunderous chaos, perfect for a future encore set; and "Blueprint" shines with its funky bass line, bright verses, and fierce optimism ("I'll proudly achieve my dream," Felix sings in Korean, as translated to English).

"We wanted to show what Stray Kids is really about," Bang Chan says. And in doing so, Felix adds, they "experimented with a variety of genres." The fellow Aussie, who Bang Chan affectionately calls his little brother and who fans (known as Stay) refer to as their "sunshine," speaks with a warm timbre. His flow is even deeper and more distinct, and it's been a solid entry point for Stay and locals alike. Felix is a commanding presence on "God's Menu," a testament to his growth as a rapper and performer. When asked about his five-star performance, he gets shy. "I think everyone put their all into this song and into the album," he says. "Sit down, be humble," Bang Chan jokingly sings beside him, a reference to Kendrick Lamar's 2017 manifesto "Humble" and a demonstration of the leader's persistent playfulness.

"We've all improved a lot in terms of our performance," dance captain Lee Know says, much to the surprise of his members. It's not that they don't agree, it's just that his eager contribution to the conversation catches them off guard. He's not always so talkative during press interviews. And there's an audible cheer among the group as he continues. "Our dancing has gotten stronger. Our vocals have gotten stronger as well. But we're still honing those skills. And we'll continue to grow."

Hyunjin, whose own development as a rapper, dancer, and vocalist with a mellifluous falsetto is well-documented on the internet, agrees. "As we get older, we want to show Stay more sides to us," he says. The lithe performer's strength is his versatility. He's highly adaptable, so it's not surprising that he's been working on writing and composing his own music under Bang Chan's watchful guidance. "I want to show [Stay] something different," he adds. (And that's a promise he intends to keep.)

Youngest member I.N thinks they're maturing in other ways too. "We've all gotten a lot more good-looking," the lively vocalist says, very matter-of-factly. Laughter erupts in the room, and Changbin's cackle is unmistakable. Undeterred, I.N carries on. "When it comes to performance, I've personally gotten a lot faster at recording and memorizing choreography," he says. Lee Know is quick to jump in. "I.N's performance in 'TOP' really surprised me," the elder says. "He's in the center position for the hook, and watching him I saw just how much he's improved. He's more confident now."

I.N is happy he gave off such an aura. "When we were preparing for this album there were times when I didn't feel so confident," he says. So he turned to his members, who listened to his concerns and offered him feedback. He feels much lighter now. "One thing I realized after watching our 'God's Menu' stages is that we all look like we're enjoying ourselves more. We feel more free on stage. And it just feels easier."

The album's most surprising and reflective moment comes at the halfway point, courtesy of Han. Written by the teen multihyphenate, "Another Day" is soft and simple, but no less introspective than his previous cuts ("19" and "Sunshine"). It depicts a feeling of restlessness caused by burnout and the inability to "rest without worrying."

Han's inspiration for the song was largely himself. "It's been a tough year, and I knew it wasn't just me who felt that way," he says. "So I wanted to put those emotions into the song."

In front of the camera, Han exudes relentless charisma. He's quick-witted and wickedly funny. Off stage, he's one of the group's two MBTI-approved introverts (the other being Hyunjin), and he prefers to relax in a controlled environment: his room. In fact, if he doesn't have a schedule or a song to work on, he'd prefer not to leave his bed at all, choosing instead to watch YouTube and anime on his phone. As someone who's deeply inspired by visual mediums, it's in these calmer moments where creativity often strikes.

"Everyone goes through times where things don't work out the way you want them to," he says. "But I think it's important to remember that while you're going through a difficult time, you need to take a breath. Go do something for yourself … Break out of that negative mindset and open yourself up to new possibilities."

Each of the members has their own way of dealing with feelings of stress and anxiety. Changbin works on music. "It's my healing," he says. And he hopes it can be healing for Stay too; he teaches fans the basics of rap during semi-regular streams on V Live. Lee Know prefers to do nothing at all. This is why the members often say the self-assured performer is like water — whatever is bothering him just washes away by morning. But I.N needs time away from the older members. ("Leave me alone!" oldest member Bang Chan whines, mimicking the moody teen.) Hyunjin finds comfort in sentimental music and Korean dramas, and he's especially adept at communicating with fans on Instagram and V Live, where he addresses their worries and offers support in both Korean and English. "That heals my heart," he adds softly. Felix has taken up cooking and baking, even going so far as to buy an oven for their shared apartment's kitchen. His brownies are already beloved by the members and JYP staff. "Making something for someone and getting to share what I make… even a small compliment will make me feel relaxed and good about myself," he says.

Meanwhile, Bang Chan has a bad habit of "brainwashing myself into thinking that I'm not restless when I actually am." So he relies on the members, or "the kids" as he calls them, to help keep him in check. "Our first week of promotions was really tiring, but when I look on stage and see them — see Hyunjin, Changbin, Lee Know, see them all — it gives me a lot of strength. They make me feel at home." (The kids coo in jest beside him. "That's right!" Han shouts.)

Seungmin doesn't often feel anxious, but when he does there's nothing that a long walk and a good playlist can't fix. Lately, he's been listening to "Another Day." "Han surprised me [with this song]," the dynamic vocalist says. "I listen to it often, and it has inspired me a lot." Han, never one to pass up a compliment, replies, "Thanks, man."

While 3RACHA are largely responsible for crafting Stray Kids' music, the members are all integral to the process. "It's not 3RACHA's music, it's Stray Kids' music," Changbin says in English. "So the members' feedback is very important. I feel the best when they like it."

Case in point: "God's Menu." The group had originally recorded a different lead single, and they were in the throes of comeback preparations when Changbin played a demo of "God's Menu" for some of the members. According to Bang Chan, this happens a lot: "We go home, we play a demo, and we party to it." It's as simple as that. But then something unusual happened: Upon hearing "God's Menu," Hyunjin immediately knew he wanted to perform it. This was Stray Kids. The other members felt it too. "The lyrics expressed our music and confidence best," Changbin says in English, as his members cheer him on. ("Go, Changbin!" Bang Chan encourages.) "It's a song only Stray Kids could perform.”

And it was a theme that personally resonated with Bang Chan. "Back in the day, when we were releasing songs as 3RACHA, I always liked to relate my producing process with cooking and science," he adds. "It's just a really fun concept." (Astute fans might recall the 2017 3RACHA deep cut "Alchemistry," in which the industrious leader declares himself a "mad scientist.")

So 3RACHA went straight to the top — to the company's founder J. Y. Park — and asked if they could change the single to "God's Menu." They didn't expect much; the single had already been locked. To their surprise, however, JYP agreed with their judgement. And so have Stay: "God's Menu" is the group's fastest music video to reach 60 million views, and Go生 broke their previous first-week sales record.

"It's a really funny and very warm feeling knowing that he believes in what we do," Bang Chan says of JYP's support. "And it makes us want to try out even more of our various ideas."

Producer Mike Daley (Baekhyun's "Candy") experienced 3RACHA's creative process and various ideas first-hand in Los Angeles last May when Bang Chan, Changbin, and Han spent a day with him in the studio following the U.S. leg of the group's Unveil tour. They worked on two tracks, one of which would eventually become "Easy." Daley played an unfinished demo for the trio, and the reaction was immediate. "A few of the guys just started rapping," he tells Teen Vogue. Bang Chan workshopped the hook and melodies with a few of Daley's friends and collaborators, while Changbin and Han wrote the verses. "Spear [Changbin] and Han were in their own zone on their phones, writing," he recalls. According to Daley, Spear — a reference to Changbin's 3RACHA moniker SpearB — laid down the first verse, and the atmosphere was electric. "He was going crazy in the booth," he says. "It had a ton of energy. And that got everyone amped up to make the hook have as much energy as the verses were bringing."

Daley, a veteran of K-pop songwriting camps, was surprised by just how involved 3RACHA were in the studio. "They knew how to produce really well, so we were all arranging it together," he says. He also observed their teamwork. "It seemed like they each had their role and worked together well," he adds. "Spear and Han were focused on the verses, but when they heard a melody they liked, they'd look at Chris [Bang Chan]. They knew how to get the song done."

And that sense of creative autonomy isn't just exclusive to 3RACHA. Through self-produced digital projects like "SKZ-PLAYER," all of the members are encouraged to express themselves through their art. "It's a really good platform for us to showcase what we want to show Stay, something that they haven't seen before," Bang Chan says. In May, he surprised fans with "인정하기 싫어," which translates to "Don't Want To Admit," a vulnerable piano ballad that laid bare his heartache. Last year, Lee Know released "Dawn," a slinky dance performance he choreographed himself. Seungmin covered his favorite band, and fellow JYP artists, DAY6. "I am very grateful that we are able to sincerely connect with Stay through music," the floppy-haired vocalist notes. As for Changbin, he recently dropped "Streetlight," a solo track in which he wrestles with feelings of loneliness. And Hyunjin released his own video — a contemporary dance he produced and choreographed to Billie Eilish's "When The Party's Over." He titled it "Empty."

"I wanted to express a different feeling, one that I couldn't show through our own performances," the perceptive dancer says. He choreographed the piece to convey his longing to perform. That loneliness that comes at the end of a party, he says, is the same emptiness he feels when he leaves the stage. "That void I feel sometimes, I wanted to express that through choreography."

Han's "Close" was inspired by the 2004 film Closer, specifically its opening scene, in which a young woman locks eyes with a handsome stranger across the street. The idea of human connection, of seeing someone and wanting to know everything about that person, struck Han, especially at a time when people feel farther apart than ever. But it was too raw to share. "I didn't originally want to release 'Close.' I wanted to keep it to myself," he says. "But after showing it to the members, they encouraged me, and that motivated me to share it."

And they continue to share their artistry with Stay. Fans are getting an intimate look at the members' songwriting and melody-making prowess in "Two Kids Song," a web series that splits them into pairs and challenges each team to write, produce, and record an original song. For Stray Kids, the desire to keep learning and pushing themselves — as songwriters, as performers, and as young adults navigating the world around them — both inside and outside of the practice room, comes naturally. "We're artists," Bang Chan says. "It's right for us to express whatever we want through our creative process."

However, with unfiltered access also comes moments of real humility, a reminder that the relationship between idols and the community they foster isn't defined in scenes of uncritical loyalty and fan service, but rather in instances where they hold one another accountable. In a June livestream, Bang Chan reminded fans, "I don't want you guys to spread negative energy around. Stays, you guys are better than that." That sentiment was recently reciprocated when the group participated in a July variety show segment that many Black fans deemed racially insensitive. Stray Kids apologized in a personal statement posted to the members' shared Instagram account, in which they rejected all types of discrimination with a promise to do better by their fans everywhere around the world. "We are still lacking in many things and we are trying our hardest to become better," they wrote in Korean and English. "We would like to apologize to anyone if we have stepped on a rake. It was never our intention but due to our lack of understanding."

It's this honesty that resonates most with their fans. It's woven into heartfelt lyrics, tearful ending ments, social media posts, virtual hugs, home-cooked meals, and earnest reminders to deal with — not run away from — things that are difficult. It is the lens through which Stray Kids see themselves: never perfect, but always sincere. Mainly, it's how they expel their innermost thoughts and feelings, the joy and the agony of everyday life. Whether that's by working on music, or choreography, or refining a new dish, or bettering themselves, that's ultimately up for them to decide. It always has been. Their appetites are insatiable, after all. "The fact that we have the chance to make the music we want to make and talk about the things we want to talk about is really special," Changbin says. "It makes me more excited for what's next."

A day after talking to Teen Vogue, Bang Chan, Changbin, and Han set the KCON:TACT stage ablaze with an opening performance that showed the world just how hungry they are. “They always say the same excuses, while they’re complaining we’re producing," Bang Chan sings, the Auto-Tune heavy. "The passion I give it, nobody can kill." It's a bold statement for any group to make, especially one as young as Stray Kids. And yet, it's that measure of determination that's defined their careers since they were teens trapped on a hellevator with nowhere to go but up. One day they'll reach the penthouse. For now, they're learning to savor the ride and embrace the mess.

"We're going to enjoy this freedom," Bang Chan says, "and eventually we'll fly high."

[polar-stars]

1-35 !!!

o.O Well you aren’t kidding around...! But thanks, that gives me something to do at least ahdhd

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

3, maybe?

I’ve seen improvement from my fanfic-beginnings for sure, but there’s still a lot of things I can improve on I believe. 

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

I’ve held a fascination with writing ever since primary school. We were given a couple creative writing tasks back then and I actually got a lot of praise for my stuff ;v; So writing an actual book someday as actually always been a dream of mine. 

I did not really write much fanfic before entering the Shokugeki-fandom, being real. But I suppose I got into it for multiple reasons: manifesting my ships (MarYu is a lot more common these days, but it was nowhere when I first entered the fandom, lol. And I don’t think I have to tell you about how much content for EtsuNe there was before I began making it), giving the OCs I came up with a story, playing around with AU ideas & later on: giving the character I’ve come to love so much more love and justice than the canon gave them.

It’s a lot of fun being real! I’m glad I started it. And it’s honestly cool to see the improvements I made from the first “Shokugeki no Kimiko” chapter to the most recent one ;v; !

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

eeeeeehhhh, oh dear...

I really don’t know...possibly a little sense of naivety maybe? I’m-

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

Within the Shokugeki-fandom  @wishingforatypewriter & @hanzome-hasashi. 

I really love wishingforatypewriter’s exploration of the characters, Totsuki, the families and so on and so on. I still remember the days when I would read updates of “The Third Year” in the school-corridor, waiting for my first lesson to start! Good memories!

With hanzome-hasashi, I really love the atmosphere in her story and I hold both “Late Night Lullabies” & “Akai Ito” very dear. LNL is so fluffy and romantic and !!! ahh, it’s all the things I love. Meanwhile Akai Ito, is just....so enchanting and captivating...In different manner than LNL, but still so, so, so good!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

It’s not finished yet...It’s not even close to being finished yet, but...”Shokugeki no Kimiko” ;v; 

It will actually have it’s 5-year anniversary this year and that’s such an incredible number to me! I’ve never been able to commit to a story this long before and it just feels good, because I am really excited for so many things that are yet to come!

I really like the characters I came up with and I’m very happy to see they’ve been well-received by others as well. I tinkered on it so long and I think there’s some stuff I did very well on, to be perfectly honest. 

This story is also what gave me some confidence that I might someday truly be able to fulfill my dream and write a book. It has overall received a lot of compliments and such a good response, that I’m stunned. 

-

For finished works, I’d have to say “Waiting for the rain to stop”.

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

I think I have a good pacing! (And I’ve been told so as well)

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Detailed descriptions. 

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

For Shokugeki, I think I’d have to say Nene Kinokuni.

9 & 10, I answered already

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

My OCs & my romantic fantasies, I’d say adhfhg 

Though, lately...I do have a coping fic going on, that I started in late 2019, I believe and that I occasionally work on when I’m not feeling too well...It’s a story about change, as I am one of those kind off people who have a hard time dealing with changes. 

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

For one, I really like the beginning of the previously mentioned Coping-Fic. I’d show it, but ahdhd it’s in German. Because I write this thing in German...

Another couple things I’m excited for it so finally add onto the Shokugeki Next Gen One Shot collection! A lot of people have been asking me about Shigeo’s and Chieko’s first meeting and yes, I’ll try to work on it as soon as I can!

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Attack on Titan, I wrote one or two things in German...I believe.

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

Lol

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

Also Shokugeki maybe? Because it’s so small ahdhd? 

16, I’ve answered already

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

I can’t see myself writing a fic with an unhappy ending...But I mean? Maybe I’ll surprise myself.

Besides that, I don’t think I’ll ever tackle truly harsh, dark topics either. I don’t feel occupied for that. 

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

Most stuff I wrote when I first entered the fandom ahdhd

The most weirdest thing was an AU that’s basically a role reversal of Rebels vs. Central but it is also in space, in a Star Wars inspired AU ashdod 

I really don’t know ahsdhd

19, I answered already

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

Shippy stuff. 

100%

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

Romance-wise, my faves would be EtsuNe, MarYu (no one is surprised) & AkiSako. 

For my OCs it’s ShigeChi (no one is surprised, Pt.2)...aka. Shigeo Eizan & Chieko Marui. 

My favorite platonic relationship to write for would be Shun and Zenji I think, in terms of my OCs it’s definitely Suzume Hojo and Shigeo. Because they greatly amuse me and ngl, their basic dynamic is a little akin to the dynamic between me and my best friend. 

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

I do! I have an extra playlist for when I write anything SnKimiko-related & it’s full of a variety of genres, haha. 

At times I also listen to Jazz or Lofi when writing though.

But yeah ultimately music really inspires me. There have been songs that painted entire scenarios in my head & song lyrics might end up being chapter titles in SnKimiko at some points ahdhd (watch out)

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

Independent ideas, I tend to struggle with prompts...but they can be fun at times!

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

I like both hdd

But for a slow turtle like me, multi-chaptered works can be a struggle...! If I was a little bit faster, I could have brought down so many ideas already.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

Well, I already do have a spin-off & a One Shot collection with side adventures for SnKimiko! 

But well...The Coping-Fanfic would also play in SnKimiko-Verse.

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

A prequel fic to SnKimiko that showcases the future parents getting together :,))) If I made the Coping-Fic a multi-chapter thing...that could be it...

but ah, I’m still so unsure about it. I feel I’m just too inexperienced and naive to tell a compelling story in that regard given that I have no actual romantic relationship experience, haha. 

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

So many, hnnn

A very recent review highlighted how they’re enjoying the conflict of Hiraku & Kimiko and how they think it’s fascinating how both of them differ from Soma and each other as well....And ah, that just kind off made me super happy to read :,)))

I also received a couple reviews of people who said they usually don’t read Oc-centric fanfic but they liked mine and that also got me all :,)))))))))

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

When it’s not given to be in disrespectful manner, I’m willing to hear it out. 

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Yeah, I wrote an Unrequited Love One Shot once. 

It wrecked my heart in half and I cried for the rest of the evening.

Okay, but beside that...”Spoonful of Affection” and some other One Shots, I probably haven’t even shared on here, has some stuff where I tried out “new things” ig. 

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

sahdhfJGJGG

God, tooth-rotting fluff...please! I want to indulge into sappy, romantic scenarios all the time.

Angst wrecks me ahdh. I don’t write Angst to wreck others, I write it to wreck myself. The one time I wrote something very heavily angsty, it ended in me crying on my bed while listening to Toni Braxton’s “Un-Break my heart” on loop.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

✨ I have too many ✨

But they have their own blog ✨😌: @shokugekinokimiko

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

“Shokugeki no Hiraku” - Chaos, Parties, Social Clash, Mean Girls, Underdog, School Tournament, Yearning

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I write mainly on my mobile. 

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

“Schlagartig änderte sich Hisako’s Leben als sie die Sonne ihres Lebens das erste Mal traf.

Schlagartig änderte sich Hisako’s Leben als die Sonne dann plötzlich verschwand und Hisako’s Universum, stets ausgerichtet auf das strahlende Licht namens Erina seit jenem schicksalhaften Tag, kollabierte.” I’m sorry, but it’s really the best I can offer rn ahdhd

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I literally love fanfiction so much and we have quite some talent in this smol fandom, no one can convince me otherwise. 

I’ve run out of words, I’m sorry.

But you...you reading this!!!

You’re amazing 💕✨

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

35 please? :D

This got really long and really angsty. I don’t know what happened. (also on ao3)

35. “Here, take my hand. Everything is fine, just hold onto me and keep moving.”

Castiel had always been deathly afraid of fire. In any form, no matter how big or small.

It all went back to when he was just a little kid, barely seven years old, the youngest in a ridiculously huge family consisting of an absentee writer of a father and the eldest siblings trying to make sure no one died.

Michael was the oldest. He was the Good Son. The one that sang their father's praises while he was off on a bender god knows where, drowning himself in whiskey as he agonized over his latest book.

He was stern and almost militant in his rearing of the younger siblings, orderly to the point of obsession. In the mornings, he would instruct all of the younger children to brush their teeth, make their beds, and get themselves ready for school.

The younger siblings were his little drones, little soldiers ready to dive into battle the moment he told them to. He barked orders and preached Bible verses from memory, fire and brimstone in his voice.

There was an odd sort of affection he held for his siblings. He had cared for them, but he was ultimately selfish and nothing would ever be more important than himself.

After joining the Air Force when he turned eighteen, he worked as a local police officer. He mostly just wrote parking tickets but the badge gave him power that he so fervently craved.

Raphael was the second eldest. If Michael was the heir, he was the spare. And he seemed to be rather content with his lot in life.

He let the others handle most of the child rearing, occasionally stepping in for discipline purposes. But unlike Michael's punishments of jumping jacks or pushups or scrubbing the bathroom tiles clean with their toothbrushes, Raphael preferred timeouts and corner time.

His favorite game to play was the quiet game. His second favorite was hide and seek though he was often very hard pressed to do any actual seeking.

He chose medicine for his career path. He became a specialist working with terminal patients, easing their pain when he could.

Many thought it was because he was compassionate, even courageous, so wonderful that such a fine young man would devote himself to such a noble cause. But his siblings knew it was only because he preferred the silence of those who were not long for the world, the only sound their breath as it came slower and slower and slower.

Gabriel was the third. The trickster. The one who saw life and their family itself for what it was: a joke.

He would spend his days lounging on the couch watching any television show that aired, from cartoons to cop dramas to country western classics. He liked to compare his siblings to archetypes and tropes, laughing all the while.

He had a predilection for sweets and women, especially those who could crush him in one blow if they so chose. Some speculated it was because the woman he dated for the longest time's name was Candy. In truth, her name was Kali and she would destroy anyone who dared to call her Candy.

He found work as a porn star slash porn director, much to the displeasure of his older siblings. But when they criticized him, he just claimed they were jealous. Not about the sex but about the fact that he could do what they could never dream of: not conform to their father's dreams for them and feel no trace of guilt.

Of all the brothers, he was the real caregiver, a god of mischief more than happy to raise mere mortals. His methods were unorthodox and oftentimes unheard of but so were many grand, amazing things and the time he spent with his younger siblings was the time that they most felt loved.

Then, there was Lucifer. The black sheep of the family. Rebellious to their father's plan.

He did not care about any of his siblings, save for the ones who themselves had raised him. He did not care about many things, adrift in a life of alcoholism and apathy. In that way, he was more like their father than he ever wanted to be.

He barely interacted with the younger children, hating them with an undeserved passion, almost as much as he despised their father. Most believed it was simply an extension of his own self-hatred, like an injured animal lashing out at those that tried to help it.

He moved out shortly after he turned eighteen. On one of the rare occasions their father had been home, he had started an argument which had blossomed like a poisonous flower into a knock down drag out that had lasted all night.

In the morning, both he and their father stormed out of the house, neither to return for a long time. He started a rock band shortly afterward, diving headfirst into a life of drugs and sin.

The younger siblings were too numerous to mention by name with a few notable exceptions.

There was Balthazar, an art dealer who followed in Gabriel's footsteps of hedonism and the pleasures of the flesh. There was Anael, who insisted on being called Anna, a love crazy chef who specialized in aphrodisiac dishes.

There was Muriel, a zookeeper who preferred the company of animals over anyone else. There was a Hannah, a sociologist who investigated what made people tick.

And then there was Castiel. The youngest. The one who became a writer. Like their father in many ways yet vastly different in others.

But before that, before he left their overcrowded house in Pontiac, Illinois and flew to the East Coast to attend Columbia, before he published his own books, before he moved into his cozy little apartment in Kansas, he was just Castiel. The youngest. The one terrified of fire.

When he was seven, already reading at a fifth-grade level and devouring every book he was given, his older brother Nathaniel had found a niche of his own. In a book of matches that Gabriel had left lying around after a night of smoking pot with his girlfriend.

Nathaniel was older, half a decade older than his baby brother yet no wiser for it, and while Castiel preferred solitude to the chaos of their home, Nathaniel reveled in it. He basked in the tension, the anger and resentment, the burning rage that simmered just under the surface.

The matches gave him control of it. That kind of power corrupts quickly. It was no different that time. Castiel just happened to be collateral damage.

Nathaniel was playing with his matches in the long upstairs hallway, flanked on either side with countless doors to countless bedrooms belonging to countless siblings. He smiled widely as the flames sparked at the red phosphorus tip, a buzz igniting within his own body.

With unadulterated delight, he watched as the flames engulfed the rest of the match until they singed his fingers and he dropped them. They went out before they landed on the carpet. Until one didn't.

The smell of burnt carpet filled the air as the fire danced before his eyes, spreading across the floor towards the door of the bedroom at the end of the hall. Castiel's bedroom where he was taking a nap, curled up in bed with his favorite stuffed animal, a gray cat.

The flames crept silently under the door, stalking into Castiel's room like a dragon hunting its prey. It had spread like wildfire, fast and fierce and fatal.

Nathaniel had sat, cross-legged on the hallway floor, and watched. Just watched. But then just watching got boring and he was moved to action.

He lit more matches and, before the fire could travel down the matchstick, he tossed them at Castiel's bedroom door. He had just thrown the last match, dark smoke filling the air, when the screaming had started.

The fire had advanced over the carpet like a legion of soldiers marching onto enemy land, declaring war with no mercy, surrounding Castiel's bed. The edges of his blanket caught fire first and a moment later his entire duvet had been alight and with it, Castiel.

He had always been a heavy sleeper. Dead to the world once his head hit the pillow. He hadn't smelled the smoke, hadn't had enough time to startle awake choking on its fumes. Instead, he awoke to pain.

The most excruciating pain he had ever experienced. Every nerve ending had been in agony, exposed and singed so severely that he didn't even feel the heat. It was cold. A stinging avalanche of gut wrenching, nauseating pain.

The flames had leapt from the comforter to his shirt and the skin lying under the fabric, burning away both without any mercy. He had been burnt alive, roasted like a rotisserie pig, sacrificed for consumption, for the delight of others.

Not knowing what else to do, he had screamed. Thrown his head back and screamed. Screamed for Gabriel, for Balthazar, for Michael, for his father.

He screamed until he was hoarse with it. Until his lungs burned like his skin did. Until he nearly passed out in the fiery ruins of his bedroom, his only sanctuary.

It was Gabriel who came to his rescue, fire extinguisher in hand. Like some kind of Shakespearean, Arthurian hero he had slain the fire breathing dragon with his monoammonium phosphate spewing sword.

But the agony had only begun.

The car ride to the hospital had jostled his fresh injuries as he sobbed into his brother's shoulder, clutching the fabric of Balthazar's shirt in his little fist. Every pothole in the road, every abrupt stop when cars in front of them failed to use their turn signals, every moment they sped down the highway was pure torture.

Luckily, he hadn't had to suffer through a long stay in the waiting room, the only mercy he had received that day. He had been taken directly to the burn unit of Saint Jude's Emergency Hospital where he was subjected to even more pain.

Despite the painkillers they had pumped him full of, he had felt every second of the debridement process as doctors cut away the non-viable skin surrounding the burns. Face buried in his arms, he had cried and wailed and begged for relief from the pain.

They concluded that twenty percent of his body had been burned but they had opted not to perform any skin grafts. They claimed that the burns would just have to heal on their own and with them, Castiel himself.

They had assured him that because some of his nerve endings were dead, he would feel less pain.

He hadn’t believed them.

He was kept at the hospital for three weeks before he was allowed to return home, an IV supplying him with the necessary fluids and electrolytes. Every few hours, a nurse would come in to change his bandages and apply an antibiotic ointment, Castiel wincing in pain.

Only a few of his numerous siblings visited him. Gabriel and Balthazar were his most frequent visitors, smuggling in his favorite candy and telling him jokes that he only half understand yet made him laugh. Hannah visited once or twice, bringing him bouquets of sunflowers and other brightly colored flowers.

He tried to convince himself that his other siblings were too busy to visit him. That Michael was working an important case. That Raphael was developing a cure for some disease that would save millions of lives.

But he had never been a very good liar.

His father had never visited. He had never even called. He was too busy writing the next book in his series. Apparently, Castiel's misfortune had inspired a new character: Claude Maloret.

After his lonely three weeks in the hospital with too rough nurses and food so bland he couldn't taste it enough to really dislike it, Gabriel had driven him back home. Back to the scene of the crime. Back to the burned out husk of what was once his bedroom, the room no longer uninhabitable.

At least not to him.

Michael had cleared out all of the scorched carpet and the burnt remains of most of Castiel's belongings, had scrubbed the ash stains off the walls. He had shoved an air mattress into his room along with a few lumpy pillows and threadbare blankets and declared it ready for Castiel to return to.

But Castiel had been petrified of the mere thought of setting foot in that room. He had cried and begged Gabriel to let him sleep in his room, even if it was just on the floor.

Gabriel, god bless his soul, had readily invited him to share his room, moving the air mattress into his own bedroom. For the next three years, he had bounced between sharing a room with Gabriel and Balthazar, other times sleeping on the couch in the living room.

Then, as he neared his twelfth birthday, he had been forced to return to his bedroom that had laid vacant for years. It was Michael's orders.

It had sparked an argument of epic proportions between Michael and Gabriel. Michael had insisted that enough time had passed, claiming that they weren't paying so much money to live in such a big house with so many rooms for Castiel to not use his room. Gabriel had defended Castiel, pointing out that he was still traumatized by the fact that he had almost been killed in that room.

Unfortunately, in their house Michael's word was law and no matter how vehemently Gabriel argued, he lost the argument and Castiel was moved back into his bedroom.

Every night, he had laid in his new bed, tucked into his new sheets, in his old room where he had almost been burned to death. No matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, he saw the flames. No matter how soft and cool his sheets were, he felt the heat. No matter how many times they repainted, the room still smelled of smoke and burnt flesh.

Nathaniel had never been punished. Apart from Balthazar threatening him if he ever came close to Castiel again and Gabriel smacking him upside the head.

Michael, and Raphael, had never punished him. Had never reprimanded him. Had never even confronted him.

He was more willing to accept that it was a case of spontaneous combustion than admit that he was a bad, negligent older brother. Denial seemed to run in their family.

But Castiel had been punished. He had been punished with his suffering.

He had been punished for taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon when he knew that it meant he wouldn't be able to sleep later. He had been punished for being such a deep sleeper, his siblings always joking that he could sleep through the apocalypse.

He had been punished for not immediately smelling the smoke. For not reminding his older brothers to check the batteries in the smoke detectors. For the fact that Nathaniel had been snooping in Gabriel's bedroom and found the matches.

And he had been left with a gruesome souvenir of all that he had done wrong, of the horrible events of that day: large swathes of burn scars on his back, pale and ugly and slightly contractured.

As he had gotten older, the scars had paled, less red and angry looking as they had been in the beginning. But they never became any less ugly. His siblings and the other kids at school made sure that he knew that.

In junior high and high school, gym class had become the bane of his existence for the sole fact that it meant he had to change in front of the other boys. As if it wasn't bad enough that he often got pushed around because of his big glasses and his awkwardness and the overly formal manner in which he spoke, bigger, stronger kids suddenly had a new reason to pick on him.

They called him awful names that he tried to forget. Shoved him to the ground when they played football or soccer. Threw his clean clothes into the showers so he was stuck in his gym shorts in the middle of the winter.

Once he had been duct taped to a bench in the locker room and left there for hours, none of the gym teachers hearing his cries for help. When his brothers had found out, Balthazar had kicked the kid who did it's ass while Gabriel had raised hell with the principal.

Fortunately, he hadn't been in high school very long. He graduated early and the day before he turned sixteen he was accepted into Columbia on a full scholarship.

With a beacon of hope beckoning to him eastward, he bought a one-way plane ticket with some money Gabriel gave him and fled to New York City. He fled the only home he had ever known, his scores of siblings, and the room that smelled like smoke.

Four years later, he graduated top of his class, summa cum laude, valedictorian with an impeccable GPA. He had even been asked to give a speech at the graduation ceremony, which he had stumbled his way through, falling back on his awkwardness when humor failed.

Gabriel and Balthazar had been the only ones out of all his siblings to bother attending his graduation. They had thoroughly embarrassed him by cheering raucously when his name had been announced and he had accepted his diploma.

He stayed in New York for a couple years, working in a bakery down the block from his tiny apartment and starting his first novel. After those two years, when he found himself lost and lonely in the big city where he was almost painfully anonymous, he decided to take his brothers up on their invitation to move to Lawrence, Kansas where they had both relocated shortly after Castiel had moved out.

Years later, things seemed to be going rather perfectly for him.

He had a decent sized apartment in a residential part of town with all of the amenities he could have ever wished for including a dishwasher, washer and dryer, and central air. Plus, he had a lovely view of the Lawrence skyline, getting to watch the sunrise every morning.

He had already written and published twelve full-length novels, three of which had actually made it onto the bestsellers list. A few bookstores in the area had actually contacted him to inquire about him possibly doing book signings.

He and his brothers had a standing bi-weekly get together where they would either have dinner out at some swanky restaurant Balthazar picked out or play drunk Scrabble at Gabriel's. It was the most normal sibling experience any of them ever had.

His life in Lawrence, for that matter, was the most normal part. He had done some casual dating, casual because the relationships had only lasted a few months but it was dating nonetheless. He had even adopted a cat, a silver tabby Maine Coon he had named Seraph.

Yet at thirty two, over two decades having passed since the incident with the matches, he still suffered from a debilitating fear of fire. And the anxiety, that ever-present dread that another fire was looming just over the horizon, had taken over his life.

It had affected him when he had gone apartment hunting after moving to Lawrence, crashing on Balthazar's couch for a few weeks. He had made a checklist of requirements for an apartment that included hardwood floors instead of carpeting and an electric stove rather than a gas one. Plus, it had to be directly adjacent to the stairwell if it wasn't on the ground floor.

After a few weeks of searching for the perfect place, he finally found it at the Cedarwood Apartments building. A two bedroom, one bathroom apartment had just gone on the market for only six hundred dollars a month.

It had been perfect, with dark hardwood floors and a stainless steel electric stove, nestled right beside the stairwell. He had moved in a few days after finding it, putting down some money as a down payment.

But while the apartment itself was perfect, he still obsessed over fire and the prevention of it.

He checked the batteries in his various smoke detectors every month even when he knew that they were still full of juice, just to ensure that they were still working. He kept fire extinguishers in every room of the apartment, even the bathroom where he kept the extinguisher on the back of the door.

He held his breath every time he pumped his own gas, his palm clammy around the handle of the pump as he toyed with the idea of upgrading to an electric car. But he loved his old Continental too much.

He winced anytime he saw someone smoking, the dark embers making his heart race. He jolted as though he had been smacked whenever he heard the hiss of a lighter or the sound of a match being struck.

He couldn't bear to be around candles, even when they were unlit and undeniably harmless. Just looking at them flooded his mind with visions of what could go wrong.

He couldn't even listen to songs that had the word 'fire' or anything similar in them. And he had never written a single sentence that had anything to do with heat or fire.

Once a week, he cleaned his apartment, meticulously checking for fire hazards, constantly consulting the Kansas Building Fire Safety Handbook. He unplugged all of his appliances and electronics when they weren't in use and obsessively cleaned the lint trap in his dryer.

He did everything within his power to avoid even the most minor cooking fire so when he woke up in the middle of the night to the shrill blare of his smoke detectors and the taste of ash on his tongue, something in him snapped.

He bolted upright, jumping out of bed and onto his feet, the hardwood floor cool against the soles of his feet. Trying to fight back the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, he yanked the fire extinguisher off the wall by his bed.

He fumbled with it, pulling the pin and crossing his bedroom to the doorway, seeing the warm glow of flames emanating from the hallway. He was dangerously close to freezing at the sight of flames creeping closer down the hallway, covering the stark white walls and turning them black.

Close to being completely paralyzed with fear, he aimed the nozzle at the approaching flames and tried to summon up visions of King Arthur or MacDuff. Then, he squeezed the handle, waiting for the monoammonium phosphate to save the day again.

But nothing happened. Nothing.

He tried again but still, nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

"No," he whimpered, trying again. It didn't work. Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

He dropped the fire extinguisher by his feet as he reeled backwards. His breath came in rough pants as he buried his hands in his hair. "No, no, no, no, no."

His mind raced. If the flames were already encroaching on his bedroom that meant the rest of his apartment must already be ablaze. He couldn't get to another fire extinguisher.

He was on the third floor so an escape through the bedroom window wasn't a viable option. There was no fire escape which should have been on his list of requirements for an apartment.

He charged his phone overnight in the living room so he wouldn't be tempted to go on a Wikipedia binge at two a.m. So he couldn't call anyone, not his brothers or the fire department.

He could hear the sirens of a fire engine over the cacophony of the smoke detectors, blue and red lights flashing on the glass of his bedroom window. But the small shred of hope that fact gave him was quickly burnt away as panic settled in, realization along with it.

He was trapped in his deathtrap of an apartment with no way out, no recourse, no hope. The fire was quickly making its way into his bedroom, the heat making him break out in a terrified sweat.

No one would know that he was in his apartment. Not until they found his remains, charred and blackened like a hunk of overcooked meat.

He wondered if anyone would mourn him. Gabriel and Balthazar would but what about their other siblings? Michael? Anna? Uriel? Inias?

What about their estranged aunts and uncles? Zachariah, with his huge company? Joshua, with his sprawling greenhouse? Naomi, with her own enterprise? Amara, with her string of lovers half her age?

What about their father? Would he mourn the loss of his youngest? Would he cry? Visit his grave? Would he even care?

A nasty little voice in the back of his mind growled out the answer that he already knew. No. No. No! No! No!

Resignation took root in his bone marrow, weighing him down until he was doing the only thing he could think of. He pulled his cat into his arms, curled up on the foot of his bed, and started to cry.

When he was younger, his older siblings used to call him cry baby because of how easily tears had come to him, whether he was happy or sad. He spent much of his adult life fighting the habit but now he accepted it wholeheartedly.

As tears rolled down his cheeks, he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the sight of the orange flames creeping closer and closer and closer. His breath grew faster and more ragged with each passing second, well aware that the life he had built for himself in Kansas was being burned away to nothingness.

He clutched Seraph tight to his chest, stroking a shaky hand down her spine. The weight of her in his arms, mewling miserably in palpable fear, anchored him.

The only mercy that he would be given this time was that he wouldn't be alone. That he wouldn't die alone.

He hoped his brothers would let her be buried with whatever would be left of him. She deserved a headstone of her own.

More tears wetting his cheeks, he prayed. Harder than he ever had before. Harder than the first time he had been engulfed in a hellish inferno.

He prayed for a miracle. For divine intervention. For his father whom he still loved for no other reason than obligation and the longing of a boy who had never even met his father.

He prayed for his brothers to come save him again. For Gabriel to burst in like some sort of white knight and save the day again.

He prayed for God. For an angel.

But his prayers fell on deaf ears and he was left to die of either smoke inhalation or the flames themselves. Either way, there would be pain and he didn’t know whether he should dread it or eagerly await it.

Just as resigned acceptance began to sink in, something made him open his eyes and look up. Through his tears, he saw an angel standing above him.

In the bulky jumpsuit and helmet, a breathing mask obscuring their face, the conflagration in the doorway formed a halo of light around them.

There was a buzzing sound in Castiel's ears, like a hive of bees flitting around with a numbing drone. Spots danced behind his eyelids as his throat tightened, smoke filling his lungs as his tears continued to fall.

As he sight began to blur, tears and smoke threatening to blot out everything else, the ringing in his ears subsided enough for him to make out what the firefighter standing in front of him was saying. "Here, take my hand. Everything's fine, just hold onto me and keep moving. Okay?"

Sniffling, Castiel nodded frantically. Tightening his grip on Seraph, who dug her claws into Castiel's t-shirt, he took the firefighter's proffered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet.

The faceless firefighter squeezed his hand reassuringly, the leather of his gloves smooth and cool against his palm. Voice low and urgent, the firefighter instructed, "Stay close to me. I'm gonna get you outta here."

Castiel nodded again, squeezing the firefighter's hand and shifting closer. He took a deep, steeling breath as he was led towards the doorway where the fire was spreading into his bedroom the way it had all those years ago.

He half expected to see Nathaniel sitting cross legged in the hall among the flames, an empty book of matches in his hand. Of course, Nathaniel wasn't there. He was back in Illinois with his wife and kids and his perfect white picket fence life while Castiel faced the fear that had overrun his life because of his older brother.

His breath came faster as saw the bright, flickering flames that were engulfing his apartment. The hallway was rather short so from the doorway of his bedroom he could see the rest of his apartment and the huge fire that was destroying it.

The sight of his living room, full of towering flames that dwarfed him and devoured all of his earthly belongings, choked him up. His apartment, his home, was the only place where he could relax and write and forget about the rest of the world if only for a few hours. It was the only place where he felt completely safe.

And it was all going up in smoke. Again. The most morbid deja-vu in his life.

The couch, an old battered sofa where he ate his dinners and listened to music to unwind, was little more than a pile of flames, the stench of burning upholstery filling the room. The desk in the corner where he wrote all of his novels and short stories was aflame, the dark wood home to bright flames.

But the worst thing, the sight of which nearly made him curl into a ball and give up trying to make it out alive, was his bookshelf. On its shelves was every book he had ever written, every short story, every collection of poetry.

It held all of his life's work. And it was completely enveloped by the blaze.

With a choked sob, he pressed his face against the firefighter's arm, clenching his eyes shut to shield himself from the devastating sight. He was overwhelmed, he was terrified, he was lost.

He heard the firefighter beside him curse, the sound of the expletive making him tense and tighten his grip on the firefighter's hand. Why was the firefighter cursing? Was the floor about to fall away? Was the fire too big, too hot? Were they going to die?

Before he could utter a single question aloud, he was suddenly being hoisted up into the firefighter's arms. He let out a squeak of surprise as he was cradled bridal style, curling his arms more securely around Seraph who let out a shocked mewl of her own.

The next several minutes passed in a blur of panicked fear and searing flames that licked at the exposed soles of his feet as he was carried through the burning ruins his apartment. With quick, precise steps, the firefighter toted him out of his apartment and into a tunnel of heat and fire that was once the hallway.

Castiel was rushed down the stairwell that was mercifully free of any trace of fire. He started coughing as they made their way down the flights of stairs, having the presence of mind to politely turn his head away so he didn't cough on the man who was carrying him to safety.

He was pretty sure he heard a host of angels sing when they burst out of the apartment building, away from the nightmare that had unfolded on the third floor. Out of the inferno and into the cool night air of the parking lot where a crowd of people was gathered. Castiel assumed they were other residents.

Three fire engines were parked as close as possible to the building, their lights flashing as clusters of firefighters aimed hoses at the fire. Castiel found himself sighing in relief when he saw that the fire was only on the third floor, his sigh triggering another fit of coughing.

An ambulance was parked by the large crowd of people in the center of the parking lot, its back doors open as the paramedics talked to a few people in the throng. The firefighter made a beeline to the ambulance, setting Castiel down on the stainless steel footboard at the back of the ambulance.

He desperately clutched at the firefighter's sleeve, nodding his head at the building as he blurted, "You have to go help them! Other people, trapped inside! Need to save them!"

"Whoa, easy there, buddy," the firefighter's voice soothed, a bit muffled by his oxygen mask. He laid a gloved hand on Castiel's shoulder, squeezing gently as he explained, "You were the only one stuck inside. Everyone else is accounted for, I promise."

Castiel let out a sigh then promptly coughed throatily, feeling like he was going to hock up a lung, turning his head to cough into his elbow. The cool night air helped but he knew that he was suffering from smoke inhalation, same as the day of the first fire.

"Yo, Benny! Need some oxygen over here!" The firefighter's gruff voice called, making Castiel jump and jerk his head up. By his side, the firefighter who had rescued him was removing his helmet while waving another firefighter over.

He had already taken off his oxygen mask, revealing a gorgeous face that would have been better suited for a model than a firefighter. His jaw was sharp and well-defined, dusted with just a tiny hint of stubble.

His cheeks, and the bridge of his straight nose for that matter, were scattered with freckles, constellations spread across his skin. His eyes were such a brilliant shade of green that Castiel was momentarily taken aback, wondering how exactly someone could possibly have eyes that green.

The firefighter, who was thus far nameless, set his helmet down beside Castiel's hip and pushed back his black hood to show off his slightly tousled hair. He had an Ivy League haircut but Castiel couldn't tell if his hair was dark blonde or brown.

Castiel was distracted from how beautiful his savior was when another firefighter appeared in front of him with two oxygen tanks. He was a large, broad shouldered man who was a bit intimidating, Castiel nervously leaning closer to the firefighter who had carried him out of the building.

But the bright smile the other man sent him vanquished any apprehension he might have had. He handed the green eyed firefighter one of the oxygen tanks and the attached masks before reaching over to take Seraph out of Castiel's arms, assuring him, "Just gonna give this little lady some oxygen. Make sure she's doin' alright."

Castiel reluctantly loosened his grip enough for the other firefighter to scoop up Seraph. He watched as Seraph was carried over to a nearby stretcher where the firefighter, apparently named Benny, held the oxygen mask up to her sooty muzzle.

"Your turn, dude."

Castiel turned his head, tearing his eyes away from Seraph, to look up at the sandy haired firefighter who was holding out an oxygen mask. Castiel nodded and gratefully accepted the mask, holding it up to his mouth and taking in a deep breath.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the light breeze that chilled the night air and dried the tears on his cheeks. He evened out his breath, trying to remember as many breathing exercises as he could from his Saturday morning yoga class.

"I'm Dean, by the way," a voice that was quickly becoming familiar announced. When he opened his eyes the gorgeous firefighter was beaming at him, the corners of his bright green eyes crinkling. He held out his hand to Castiel who noticed that he had taken off his gloves. "Dean Winchester."

"Castiel," he returned, reaching over shake Dean's hand. "Castiel Novak."

"So, Cas, I kinda doubt they're gonna be letting people back in tonight," Dean claimed with a wince, gesturing to the apartment where the fire was still raging. His eyes sliding back to Castiel, he tipped his head to the side and asked, "So, uh, do you need to call anyone?"

"Oh," he mumbled, his hand going to where his pocket would have been if he wasn't wearing a pair of sweatpants. His brows drew together as he quietly stated the obvious, "I don't have my phone."

It was then that the numb shock ebbed away and realization of the gravity of the situation finally sunk in, for a second time that evening. Biting his lips as his eyes filled with more tears, he softly sobbed, "I don't have anything. Oh, god. I don't have anything. Everything I had...  Everything I've worked for... It's just...gone."

Like a dam bursting, he felt a deluge of tears cascading down his cheeks as he whimpered. He raised his other hand, burying his face in it as he lifted his legs, curling in on himself.

The past sixteen years of his life spent running away from that horrible day, from the dark embers of his past, had ended up culminating in ash and ruin. All the work he had put into building a new life for himself in the town where no one knew him as the weird little burned kid was all for naught.

All of the sleepless nights he had spent hunched over his computer, painstakingly typing out every word of every piece of work he had ever written hadn't meant anything. Every precaution he had made to protect himself from another tragedy had been meaningless.

He couldn't even live out of his car for awhile since he didn't have his car keys.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Dean assured him, taking a seat beside Castiel on the footboard and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He gently tugged Castiel closer, shushing him as he curled his other arm around Castiel's waist. "It's gonna be okay, man."

Castiel tilted his head to the side to hide his face in Dean's chest, too miserable and overwhelmed to be embarrassment by how forward and desperate he was being. He held the oxygen mask to his face as he sniffled, forcing himself to keep his breathing even despite the whirlwind of emotion he was experiencing.

Curiosity that could only be described as morbid goaded him into asking his next question. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his free hand as he inquired, "What caused the fire?"

"Uh, apparently your neighbor fell asleep with a cigarette," Dean explained, giving Castiel's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Set off a whole book of matches."

Castiel couldn't help the watery, bordering on hysterical laugh that bubbled up out of his throat at Dean's words. Of course, it was a book of matches that started the fire.

Mopping at his cheeks, he straightened up with a sniffle, shaking his head at himself. Dean offered him a wide smile, squeezing his shoulder again as he offered, "How 'bout I go grab my phone? You can call whoever you need to."

He nodded, returning Dean's smile with a small one of his own. He waited patiently as Dean dropped his arms from where they were curled around Castiel before standing and jogging over to one of the fire engines.

While waiting, Castiel glanced over at the stretcher where the other firefighter, Benny, was gently stroking his hand down Seraph's back. The Maine Coon seemed perfectly content, lying down on her stomach with her front paws stretched out in front of her.

Dean returned a few minutes later, cell phone in hand and a light flush on his high cheekbones. Plopping back down beside Castiel, he unlocked his phone and pulled up the dial pad to place a call, explaining, "You can just tell me the number. Might be a little hard to understand you through the mask so I'll put it on speaker. That okay?"

Castiel just nodded and rattled off Gabriel's number, infinitely glad that he had memorized it. The phone rang a couple times before Gabriel finally picked up, greeting, "Yo."

It was Dean who spoke first, to Castiel's surprise. Clearing his throat, Dean began, "This is Dean Winchester, I'm with the—"

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying," Gabriel asserted, cutting Dean off. Castiel could perfectly envision his brother's eye roll. "So, buh-bye—"

"Gabriel, it's me," Castiel interjected, raising his voice enough so that it wasn't muffled by the oxygen mask.

"Cassie?" Gabriel asked, using the nickname he had saddled Castiel with decades ago. Then, he whistled, following it up with a low chuckle as he teased, "Ooh, did you hook up with someone? Now I'm all jealous."

While Castiel would have liked to have been amused by his older brother's ribbing, he found himself extremely nervous. He chewed his lip before he sighed and blurted, "Gabriel. Dean's a firefighter.There... There was a fire."

"What?!" Gabriel practically screeched over the line, Dean wincing at the loud, stringent squawk. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Again?! Jesus Christ! Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Dean raised a brow at the word 'again', but Castiel ignored it in favor of answering his brother's series of rapid fire questions. "No, I'm not kidding. Yes, again. I'm fine. I don't need to go to the  hospital. But I—"

He was cut off by a hiccuping sob, overwhelmed again by the bleak reality of his situation. His eyes stung but he doubted that he could actually produce any more tears.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to compose himself. With a shaky sigh, he forced himself to continue, "But, Gabriel, everything's gone. Everything. Even my laptop. How am I gonna meet my deadline if my whole novel's gone? I don't have my wallet or my car keys or any of my papers. It's all just gone."

Dean curled a comforting arm around his waist, running his hand up and down Castiel's side. He leaned into the soothing touch, eternally grateful for both the firefighter's presence and his patience.

"Alright, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna come pick you up, you can stay with me for as long as you need to," Gabriel announced. "We're gonna call your publisher and get a copy of your rough draft. I have a spare for the Continental, we'll pick it up tomorrow. And I'll make some calls, get you a new social security, new birth certificate, whatever you need."

Castiel sniffed and nodded even though he knew that Gabriel couldn't see him. His brother's voice sounded again as he claimed, "I'll be there in a few minutes. Oh, and Castiel?"

"Yeah?" He answered, rubbing a few tears out of his eyes.

"You're alive," Gabriel said simply. "Just remember that, okay? You're alive."

Castiel let out a breathy huff of incredulous laughter as his brother's words sank in. He was alive. Against all odds, in spite of two separate fire that quite possibly could have killed him, he was alive.

A wave of disbelieving relief crashed over him as Gabriel hung up. He wanted to sing and dance and run naked through the streets he was so elated. He felt at least thirty pounds lighter, like he could walk on air, like any minute he was going to sprout wings and take to the cool night sky.

He was alive! And he was giddy with it. So overcome with giddiness that the next thing he knew, he was pulling off his oxygen mask and wrapping his arms around Dean's neck to lay an overjoyed, life-affirming kiss on his plush pink lips.

It was a quick, chaste kiss, little more than a peck really. It only lasted a few blissful moments before Castiel pulled back and gushed, "Thank you, Dean. You saved my life. And Seraph's!"

He set down his oxygen mask and hopped off the ambulance's footboard to greet Benny as he carried Seraph over. Her thunderous purr was audible even at a distance, her yellow eyes narrowed as Benny scratched under her chin.

Buzzing with adrenaline, Castiel bounced on the balls of his feet as Benny handed him Seraph who immediately nuzzled under Castiel's chin. When Castiel raised his head to ask Benny if she was going to be alright, he found the burly firefighter laughing heartily, a huge grin on his face.

"Oh, she'll be fine, brother. Just needs a bath," Benny informed him between laughs. With a wide smirk, he clapped Dean on the shoulder and tacked on, "Looks like she's not the only one who needs to take a cold shower."

Castiel hummed in confirmation as he looked at the blotches of soot on Seraph's silver coat, sure that he himself was probably covered in the black powdery. He wrinkled his nose when he thought about the fact that he would probably be clawed to hell when he gave Seraph her bath, but it was a small price to pay for being alive. "Yes, I suppose I'm a mess as well."

For some reason that sent Benny into a fit of renewed laughter, the firefighter throwing his head back and practically howling. Dean, whose face was suddenly flushed with color, elbowed the other man in the ribs and grumbled, "Shut up, Benny."

Castiel ignored the hushed bickering that ensued between the two firefighters, cuddling Seraph close and peppering kisses over the top of her head. He still couldn't believe they had made it out alive, that the flames hadn't devoured them both.

The elated feeling that had taken root in his chest only seemed to intensify when a pair of headlights cut through the dark of the night and a car pulled up beside the ambulance. Castiel immediately recognized it as Balthazar's sleek silver Porsche, his older brother a fan of the finer things in life whether it be vintage wines or exorbitantly priced sports cars.

The mere sight of the silver paint job made him smile, reminding him that he was still alive to be annoyed by his brother's over-indulgence. That he was still alive to spend the holidays with his brothers and put up with their constant teasing about everything and anything and help settle the prank wars that Gabriel started at least once every few months.

Gabriel burst out of the car and rushed over to Castiel, Balthazar hot on his heels. Before he could say a word, he was being swept up into Gabriel's arms despite the fact that his older brother was four inches shorter than him.

Gabriel actually spun him around a few times, squeezing him so tightly that it almost hurt, Seraph meowing loudly from where she was sandwiched between them. By the time Gabriel set him down, Castiel was a bit, laughing a bit hysterically as his brother leaned up to scatter kisses over his cheeks.

Balthazar hugged him next, letting him keep his feet on the ground as he pressed a single kiss to Castiel's temple. He slipped an arm around Castiel's shoulders, tugging him close with a grin.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Gabriel demanded as he started fussing over Castiel, fiddling with the collar of his t-shirt. He licked the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot of soot on Castiel's cheek.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel swatted his brother's hand away. "I'm fine, Gabriel. A little shaken up and more afraid of fire than I was before but I'm fine."

"Is that even possible?" Balthazar inquired with a raised brow. "The being even more afraid of fire part, I mean."

"Well, I'm definitely not more of a fan," Castiel returned with a small smile, shifting to hold Seraph more comfortably. She was growing a bit restless.

Castiel looked back over at Gabriel who was clearly tense, his worry palpable. Voice soft, he assured his older brother, "Gabriel, I'm fine. I promise."

Letting out a long exhale through his nose, Gabriel nodded, mustering up a tiny grin of his own. Nodding his head towards the Porsche, he suggested, "Let's get you back to my place and tucked into bed."

"Just give me a second," Castiel requested, handing Seraph to Balthazar who scratched her behind her right ear until she purred contentedly. "I need to thank Dean."

He ignored the equal parts amused and critical raise of Gabriel's brow in favor of turning back to Dean and Benny. On pure impulse, he looped his arms around Dean's shoulders and hugged him again, murmuring, "Thank you for saving me."

He hugged Benny next, the big burly man returning the embrace with a low chuckle. As Castiel pulled back, he thanked the firefighter, "Thank you, too."

With a final wave to the two firefighters and a glance up at the charred tensions of the third floor, he hurried over to his brothers' side, Gabriel wrapping an arm around him. It wasn't until he was seated in the passenger seat of the Porsche, Balthazar climbing into the backseat with Seraph in his arms, that he abruptly realized he had kissed Dean in his euphoric daze.

As they drove off, Castiel's face flushed hotter than the fire he had been rescued from.

The days following the fire were full of adjustments, of changes to his carefully mapped out routine that left him anxious and itchy.

Gabriel's apartment was on the other side of town, swanky and ostentatious where Castiel's had been cozy and warm. It was a stark contrast, Gabriel's apartment more suited to the life of an eligible bachelor while Castiel's had been perfect for an asocial writer.

Gabriel lived in the penthouse apartment of some luxurious building that catered specifically to the rich and occasionally famous. His many awards for adult entertainment films and the fat paycheck that went with them were enough to qualify Gabriel as both.

Floor to ceiling windows in the living room allowed a fantastic view of the Lawrence skyline, allowing for a semblance of familiarity for Castiel who was extremely glad that he didn't have a fear of heights. At night, the lights from downtown illuminated the room like twinkling Christmas lights.

The kitchen was fit for a professional chef, completely wasted on Gabriel who had the wondrous ability to burn water anytime he tried to cook. Stainless steel appliances and all sorts of other amenities, including a gorgeous electric stove, glistened in the kitchen, practically untouched.

Castiel had taken to cooking for his brother in return for Gabriel letting him stay there. He knew that it wasn't necessary but going through the motions of making French toast or chili helped him feel more like a guest and less like a freeloader.

He had been given Gabriel's guest room which had only been used once or twice before, usually after one of his wild parties ended up with people too inebriated to drive home. It was comfortable enough, the bed firmer than Castiel would have preferred but there were no fire hazards in the room so he couldn't find any cause for complaint.

The day after the fire, Castiel discovered it had made the morning news on several different local stations, residents and rubberneckers alike interviewed by reporters. The news anchors reported on the cause of the fire, Castiel's next door neighbor garnering the ire of the entire apartment building.

Luckily, no one had been injured apart from a few cases of smoke inhalation that hadn't required any more treatment beyond some oxygen. And, as a too-cheery blonde news anchor announced, only one person had been trapped inside the building: none other than Castiel himself.

He had been shocked when a grainy video had appeared on the wide screen of Gabriel's insanely huge television, showing Dean carrying Castiel out of the building. After they had run the short, fifteen second video a few times, the anchor had moved on to talk about Castiel's career, listing off a couple titles of his as a copy of the picture he used on the dust jackets of his books popped up in the upper right-hand corner of the screen.

After a miserable attempt at humor from the other anchor who made a comment about the fire potentially igniting some new ideas for a novel, they had moved on to a different story. Beside him on the plush white sofa, Gabriel had nearly spit out his coffee.

"Those fucking bastards," Gabriel had hissed under his breath with all of the righteous indignation of both an overprotective brother and a publicist who hadn't been made aware that his client was going to be given some sort of publicity. Stalking away, he had gotten on his cell phone and started making calls, the hushed growl of his voice echoing through the apartment.

While Gabriel raised hell with the news stations, screeching about invasions of privacy and the legality of the video itself, Castiel decided to call his editor slash publisher.

Fergus 'Crowley' MacLeod was an old associate of Gabriel's, a former publisher of their father's who quit after getting tired of the quote 'mindless drivel' he wrote under his pseudonym, Carver Edlund. He had a reputation for being ruthless, a harsh editor who didn't mince words and wasn't afraid of being brutally honest with his authors.

Fortunately, Crowley agreed to mail him a copy of the chapters he had already finished after Castiel explained the fact that there had been a fire. Crowley may have been nicknamed the 'King of Hell' by those in the publishing profession but he wasn't completely heartless.

The day after that, he begrudgingly returned to the apartment building to pick up his Continental while Gabriel and Balthazar braved the ruins of his apartment to see what they could salvage. They only managed to recover a few things — his wallet, his car keys, his important paperwork, and a bag of clothes — but it was enough to make him feel less destitute.

He had already started looking for a new place to live, this time contemplating investing in a house rather than an apartment. He liked the idea of having a real home, with a backyard and a front porch, maybe even a beehive of his own.

And he had to admit he found it rather attractive that living on his own would make it less likely for him to suffer through a fire caused by someone else.

The only thing left for him to worry about was finishing his next novel. And making it up to Dean for that thoughtless kiss.

Over the past few days, he had been wracked with guilt. He had practically assaulted the firefighter for god's sake!

The incessant teasing from both of his brothers after he had confessed that in his frenzied euphoria he had kissed the man who had saved him didn't help. In true older brother fashion, they constantly teasing him about having the hots for the firefighter, asking him if he used tongue, if Dean had returned the kiss.

Castiel felt like an idiot. Yes, Dean was a gorgeous man and yes, he was definitely attracted to him but he had never been that forward before in his entire life.

His approach to flirting had always been practically nonexistent. Even when drunk and uninhibited, he was shy and somewhat awkward at best and embarrassingly awkward and nearly mute at worst.

How he had ever lost his virginity still baffled his brothers and sometimes even himself.

In total, he had only had three relationships, apart from a few one night stands, and all three had been initiated by the other person. He had a tendency to be attracted to bolder, more assertive people.

In college, he had dated a woman named Daphne. She had been smart and pretty, president of the student government with an impressive GPA of her own.

He had met her in his English Literature class junior year when they had been grouped together for a project. She had flirted with him for weeks before he had finally realized that her odd comments and compliments were flirtations.

They had dated throughout the rest of his junior year and midway through senior year when they'd had an amicable breakup. She had been Castiel's first in many ways: his first kiss, his first date, his first girlfriend, his first time.

She had contacted him a few years back, just to see how he was doing after recognizing his face on the back of one of his books. They had talked for a little bit over an hour, about what they had done after college and their families.

Daphne had gotten married to a nice, religious man named Emmanuel and had two children with another on the way. She had sounded perfectly content as she claimed that they would have to talk again sometime.

During Castiel's last year in New York, he had met a woman named Meg. She had blatantly flirted with him, her eyes running down his body salaciously as she bit her blood red lip.

Their relationship had taken on a distinctively different theme than the one he'd had with Daphne. He and Meg's relationship had been based purely on sex and little more.

They would meet up a few times a week for dinner at Castiel's apartment, followed by sex. He had been too naive to realize that Meg was essentially using him for sex and free food.

They broke up shortly after Castiel decided to move out of the city, Meg simply shrugging. Apparently, as she explained it to him, she had never seen him as anything more than a friend with benefits.

Her words had stung but Castiel hadn't been too broken up about it. After all, Meg had been right. It wasn't as though they had been in love.

A few years after moving to Lawrence, he had met a charming man named Mick at the local bookstore. Mick had struck up a conversation with Castiel in the mystery section, enchanting Castiel with his handsome smirk and Irish brogue.

When Mick had invited him out for drinks later that evening, Castiel had been helpless to refuse. They had spent the night getting to know each other over cocktails, Mick's hand warm on Castiel's knee.

They had taken things slow, Mick extremely supportive after Castiel explained what had happened between him and Meg, sharing only chaste goodnight kisses at the door until after they had been dating for a month.

Castiel had been deliriously happy, Mick a perfect gentleman and an even more perfect boyfriend. He had even invited Mick to dinner with Gabriel and Balthazar so his boyfriend could meet his brothers.

After interrogating him over glasses of expensive champagne, both Gabriel and Balthazar had given Mick their seal of brotherly approval. Castiel had been extremely grateful for that, beaming at Mick after Gabriel sent him a discreet nod.

They had dated for over a year and a half before Mick had sat Castiel down and explained that he had been given a promotion and would have to move back to England. As much as it had hurt Castiel, who was pretty sure that he was following in love with Mick, he hadn't wanted to hold him back, giving Mick his blessing and one last kiss goodbye.

He hadn't been involved with anyone since aside from a few one night stands and even then, he had never been the one to initiate anything. So, his bold, impulsive decision to kiss Dean out of the blue surprised no one more than himself.

He knew that he had only kissed Dean because he had been so overwhelmed with relief that he was alive but he also knew that was no excuse. And he had to make up to Dean somehow.

Which is how he found himself pulling into the Lawrence Fire Department's in his Continental, two trays of cupcakes and a pie in the passenger seat.

He had woken up earlier than usual, itching with the need to make himself useful in some way. After a quick shower, he had wandered into the kitchen to make breakfast.

A towering stack of chocolate chip pancakes and a fed older brother later, Castiel still had the urge to cook. With Gabriel's enthusiastic permission, Castiel had started a batch of vanilla cupcakes.

As he was whipping up some honey buttercream frosting, he realized that he could bring some cupcakes down to the fire station to thank Dean. It was foolproof. Who didn't like receiving baked goods?

Of course, Castiel had then over-thought things and decided to make a second batch of cupcakes, chocolate with a hint of chili. He figured the firefighters would appreciate the joke.

Then, because Castiel almost always got carried away when he baked, he ended up making one of his famous caramel apple pies. Pie was never unwelcome, right?

Before he could lose his nerve, he had packed up all of the food he had made and carried it down to his car, for once opting to take the elevator rather than the stairs. Carrying three trays of baked goods down twenty flights of stairs was not all that appealing to him.

In the ten minutes it took him to drive to the fire station, doubt settled firmly within him. As he put his car into park, he found himself muttering, "What am I doing? This was stupid. I should just send a card or something."

He dropped his forehead down onto the steering wheel and let out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut. But he had made it that far and he would hate to waste perfectly good cupcakes.

Trying to muster up some confidence, Castiel climbed out of his car, rounding the nose of the Lincoln to grab the trays of cupcakes, leaving the pie on the passenger seat. He took a deep, steeling breath before making his way to the front door of the station.

There was a redheaded woman sitting behind the front desk, typing away on a computer. Bobble heads and various other action figures littered the top of the desk, multiple characters that Castiel recognized from Harry Potter and Game of Thrones.

The woman radiated an air of cheerfulness, from the bright smile on her face to the vivid shade of her hair, even the vibrant yellow of her t-shirt. And if he wasn't mistaken, she had a Dungeons and Dragons tattoo on her inner wrist, a line of rainbow colored polyhedrons.

She looked up at Castiel as he walked closer to the desk, offering him an even wider grin in response to his own shy smile. Turning to face him fully, she greeted, "Hey, what can I help you with?"

"Hi. Uh, I'm looking for Dean Winchester," Castiel replied, feeling his cheeks heat with a light blush. He felt ridiculous, the urge to run coursing through him. "Is he here?"

"Yup, he and the others are hanging out upstairs," she relayed, standing up. She walked out from behind the desk and started towards a staircase. She paused and glanced over at Castiel, waving a hand and urging, "C'mon, I'll take you up. I'm Charlie, by the way."

"I'm Castiel." He said shaking himself as he hurried over to join her at the foot of the stairs, obediently following her as she led him upstairs. He was careful not to jostle the trays in his hands too much, making sure none of the cupcakes tipped over.

He wanted them to be perfect for Dean. And if that thought didn't make him feel like a dorky kid with a crush.

The upstairs of the fire station clearly served as a common room for the firefighters when they had nothing else to occupy their time with. It was made up like a typical 'man cave', fitting for the stereotypically masculine setting of a fire station.

There were plush leather recliners arranged in a semi circle around a rather large TV, though not as big as Gabriel's ridiculously large television. Benny was sitting in one beside a petite blonde woman, the two of them animatedly discussing something. A German Shepherd was lying curled up at their feet.

There was a kitchenette in the opposite corner with dark wood cabinets and black soapstone countertops, a line of stools along the kitchen island. A lanky man with messy brown hair was fixing himself a sandwich, a jar of peanut butter on the countertop.

There was a foosball table by one doorway that led into a room full of bunk beds and another that Castiel assumed was to a bathroom. Three men were playing, one had his back to Castiel so he couldn't tell if it was Dean or not, the other two men were older.

One wasn't wearing a uniform, instead wearing a baseball cap and a plaid shirt over an old t-shirt. He had full beard that was gray on the sides, too full for him to be a working firefighter.

The other was younger but looked to be in his early fifties, with jet black hair and five o'clock shadow. There was something almost familiar in his features, as though Castiel had seen him before somewhere though he could not for the life of him figure where that might have been.

Not sure what else to do, Castiel just lingered by Charlie's side, biting the inside of his cheek and keeping his eyes down. He jumped a bit when she whistled loudly and called, "Yo, Dean! You got a visitor!"

Everyone in the room craned their necks to look at Charlie and therefore Castiel who felt himself start to squirm under the weight of their gaze. The third man at the foosball table straightened up and turned around, Castiel's breath catching in his throat.

It was Dean alright, in a black t-shirt that was practically skin-tight, his muscular biceps on glorious display. He was wearing heavy boots and black turnout pants, red leather suspenders holding them up while drawing Castiel's attention to both the wide breadth of Dean's shoulders and the muscles in Dean's chest, defined enough to be noticeable through the fabric of his t-shirt.

His hair, looking more dirty blonde than brown under the incandescent lights, was artfully disheveled, like Dean had been running his hands through it. Even at a distance, Castiel could see the incredible green of Dean's eyes.

The corner of Dean's mouth curled up in a smile as he strode across the room to Castiel, greeting, "Heya, Cas."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel answered, returning Dean's bright smile with a more subdued one of his own. He found himself having some trouble looking Dean in the eye, feeling his cheeks heat even more.

"What's up?" Dean asked, hooking one thumb into the waistband of his pants.

"I, uh... I just wanted to thank you properly," Castiel explained, fidgeting with the tray in his hands. A second later, he rushed to add, "And Benny, too, of course."

"I made cupcakes," he blurted, unnecessarily raising the trays in his hands. Biting his lip and lowering his eyes, he murmured, "Which I realize now is probably weird and unnecessary and stupid..."

"Nah, man," Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "Like I'm gonna turn down cupcakes."

He grabbed one of the trays from Castiel before turning to the side, laying a hand between Castiel's shoulders blades as he guided him further into the room. Castiel was surprised that he wasn't more bothered by the fact that Dean was touching his scars, even if it was just through his button up and the navy cardigan he had thrown on.

He had only let a handful of people even look at his scars and even less had been permitted to touch them. But with Dean, it was oddly easy, though still a little bit disconcerting, a reminder that the scars were there in the first place.

He tried to shake off the feeling as Dean led him to the kitchenette, setting down the tray of chocolate chili cupcakes on the kitchen island. Castiel followed suit as Dean looked over his shoulder to address the others in the room, announcing, "C'mon, guys. Cas made us cupcakes!"

Like a herd of stampeding zebra, the other firefighters quickly flocked to the kitchenette, startling Castiel with their enthusiasm. He was used to just Gabriel and Balthazar bowling him over in a bid to get to whatever he baked for them, not a whole station of firefighters.

Even the German Shepherd who had been content to nap at Benny's feet galloped over with an excited bark, tail wagging vigorously. The dog came to a stop directly in front of Castiel, sniffing his thighs curiously before taking a seat on his right foot, gazing up at him with big innocent eyes.

"So, what d'ya got for us, Cas?" Dean inquired as removed the tops of the cupcake trays. He made a show of rubbing his hands together and licking his lips as he ran his eyes over the display of cupcakes.

"There are vanilla cupcakes with a honey buttercream and honey whiskey filling," Castiel explained, indicating the yellow cupcakes topped with fluffy spires of white buttercream. Then, he pointed at the chocolate cupcakes, "And chocolate chili cupcakes with a chocolate cayenne frosting and chocolate ganache filling."

"I don't care if I get diabetes, I'll die happy," Charlie declared cheerfully as she reached over to grab a chocolate cupcake. Cas noticed that her fingernails were painted pale purple as she carefully removed the cupcake wrapper.

"Chocolate chili?" Benny asked, sounding a little bit skeptical. There was a crease between his brows as he glanced between the two varieties of cupcakes.

"I thought it would be fitting for firefighters," Castiel elaborated lamely, feeling like an idiot the second the words were out of his mouth. "Oh, and I have a pie in my car if you'd like."

"Pie?!" Dean exclaimed, a radiant smile stretching across his face as he beamed over at Cas. Throwing his hands up, narrowly avoiding smacking Benny in the face, he announced, "Aww, Cas, just marry me now!"

Castiel wasn't proud of the swarm of butterflies those words set free in his stomach. He bit his lip hard enough that he was worried he might have drawn blood as he forced himself not to accept Dean's joking proposal.

He was a grown man for god's sake, he should not be blushing like a little ten year old. He was just glad his brothers weren't there to tease him.

"I can run down and grab it," Castiel volunteered. "It should still be warm."

"I'll come with ya," Dean offered, untangling himself from the throng of other firefighters who were looting the trays of cupcakes. He jogged down the stairs beside Castiel, setting his hand on the small of his back, Castiel stiffening the slightest bit at the casual contact.

Castiel fiddled with the sleeve of his cardigan as he led Dean out into the parking lot. His Continental was one of the only cars in the parking lot, the only others a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle, a couple of pickup trucks, and two classic muscle cars.

"This yours?" Dean asked as Castiel pulled his car keys out of his pocket, nodding his head towards the Continental. When Castiel nodded, Dean cocked a brow. "What are you, a pimp?"

Castiel shrugged as he unlocked the car. "I like it."

"That's my baby," Dean proclaimed, his voice brimming with audible pride as he pointed out his car. Castiel raised his head to see which vehicle Dean was pointing at.

It was one of the classic cars, jet black and clearly waxed, its paint job glistening in the morning sunshine. Like some sort of sacred, ancient monument, it sat in the parking lot, emanating an almost holy aura.

"Wow," Castiel found himself murmuring under his breath, eyes wide as he admired the beautiful car. He had never been much of a car guy, always deferring to Gabriel and Balthazar, but there was something about Dean's car that enchanted him, that made him think of home.

"C'mon," Dean said, grabbing Castiel by the hand and dragging him across the parking lot to stand beside his car. Hands on his hips, he recited, "1967 Chevy Impala. Tuxedo black with parchment interior."

"She's beautiful..." Cas whispered, his voice low with awe as he leaned over to look inside at the leather bench seats. He reverently ran the tips of his fingers over the hood, a feather light caress over the cool metal.

"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Dean hummed. "My dad gave me her on my eighteenth birthday. Best day of my life."

"Gabriel would love her," Castiel commented, straightening up and tipping his head to the side to smile at Dean. "He loves classic cars. He was the one who gave me the Continental."

Dean nodded, dropping his arms to his side. He glanced over at Castiel, venturing, "Yeah, I was gonna ask. No boyfriend today?"

"Boyfriend?" Castiel repeated, wrinkling his nose as he frowned at Dean. He was beyond confused. "What boyfriend?"

Dean blinked at him, staring like he thought Castiel was an idiot. With a frown of his own, he said, "Uh, Gabriel?"

"Dean, Gabriel isn't my boyfriend," Castiel explained slowly, wondering how exactly Dean had come to that conclusion. "Gabriel's my older brother."

"Oh." Dean kept frowning, his eyebrows drawing together. "Then what about the blond guy? The one with the British accent?"

"Balthazar," Castiel provided helpfully. Dean nodded, then gestured for Castiel to continue. "Oh. Balthazar's my older brother, as well."

"Oh," Dean repeated, his frown still in place. He scratched his chin where there was just the tiniest hint of a cleft. Glancing over at Castiel, he asked, "So... No boyfriend?"

Castiel shook his head. Then, on second thought, he tacked on, "Not for over two years now."

Dean just hummed, nodding to himself before striding back over to the Continental where he took the liberty of opening the passenger side door. He pulled the apple pie out with an ear to ear grin, licking his lips at the sight of the brown sugar crumb topping.

After locking the car and closing the door with a slam, Dean turned back to Castiel, brandishing the pie. As he began leading Castiel back into the fire station, he happily chirped, "You were right. It's still warm."

The German Shepherd greeted them when they made it to the top of the stairs, barking joyously and wiggling his entire body. Dean twisted to the side to avoid dropping the pie, nudging the dog aside as he grumbled, "Back off, Colonel."

"Oh my god, Dean!" Charlie called as he carried the pie over to the counter, a few coos greeting the appearance of the delicious looking baked good. Wiping a dollop of buttercream off her upper lip, she raved, "If you don't marry him, I will."

"Switching teams, kiddo?" Dean laughed as he rounded the kitchen island to rifle around in one of the kitchen drawers. Glancing over his shoulder, he commented, "I thought you were strictly team lesbian."

"I can make an exception for food this good," Charlie retorted, taking another bite of her vanilla honey cupcake. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she let out a theatrical moan, lauding, "Seriously, these cupcakes are better than sex."

Dean shook his head as he returned to the island with a knife to cut the pie. Disappointment saturating every word, he admonished Charlie, "Then you must not be having good enough sex."

"I have great sex, thank you very much," Charlie sniffed, taking another bite of her cupcake. Thumbing a crumb off her chin, she challenged, "But you haven't tried one of these cupcakes yet, Dean. They're freaking orgasmic."

"Yeah, man. Are you a baker or something?" The skinny guy asked, a wide smile on his face.

"I'm flattered," Castiel claimed, scratching the back of his neck. Shrugging, he continued, "But, no. I'm a writer."

"Anything we might know?" The blonde woman asked, licking a spot of chocolate frosting off her thumbnail.

"I've made the bestsellers list a few times," Castiel begrudgingly admitted, watching as everyone's eyes widened as they turned to gawk at him. He squirmed under their scrutiny, stuffing his free hand into his pocket to play with his keys, hoping the fidgeting would calm him down a bit.

"That's like big-time money, right?" Charlie demanded, drawing Castiel's attention back to her. She had finished her cupcake, a smudge of buttercream on her cheek. "Like millions of dollars, right?"

Castiel didn't know what else to do, glancing around at all of the firefighters staring at him. He felt like he had been tossed back into the flames, the same panicky feeling threatening to suffocate him.

He really didn't want to discuss his financial situation with them. Sure, they seemed like lovely people but he could barely bring himself to discuss such things with his own brothers and he was closer with them than he ever had been with anyone else.

He didn't want to discuss the fact that he had indeed made over a million dollars in royalties from the last book of his that had made it onto the bestsellers list. He didn't want to discuss that he donated most of it to various charities and sent the rest of it to his less fortunate siblings even though they barely remembered his name.

He didn't want to discuss the fact that he had paid for Lucifer to attend rehab countless times even though his older brother always relapsed. Didn't want to discuss the fact that he had single-handedly paid tuition for five of his cousins so they could go back to college.

Didn't want to discuss that he had helped cover some of his uncle Zachariah's gambling debts. Didn't want to discuss that he had bailed his aunt Naomi out prison after her various DUIs and bought her new cars after she totaled her old ones.

Didn't want to discuss that when his uncle Joshua was evicted from his home, he had bought him a new house with a yard full of flowers. He didn't want to discuss the fact that he had paid for Nathaniel and his wife to go to couples counseling, that he had covered the hospital bills after Nathaniel fell off his roof and broke his leg, that he had helped Nathaniel pay his mortgage after he lost his job.

He didn't want to discuss the fact that years after being treated like shit for years, for being taunted and tormented, burned and nearly killed by his family, he was still a slave to their whims. He didn't want to admit that he had been incapable of severing all ties when all of his siblings, besides Gabriel and Balthazar, would have no problem forgetting about him completely.

He tightened his grip on his keys, debating whether or not he should bolt. Fortunately, Dean stepped in before he could actually commit to making a desperate run for the door.

As he finished dividing the pie into eight even slices, he chastised the others. With a sigh, he pointed out, "C'mon, guys. He doesn't even know half your names. And he brought food! Cut him some slack."

When the others looked suitably chastised, looking down and pursing their lips, Dean clapped his hands together and cheerily announced, "Alright! Time for pie!"

He grabbed a stack of plates from one of the cabinets along with a pile of forks from one of the drawers while Charlie flitted over to grab some napkins. Using the knife to lift the slices of pie and carefully set them down on the plates, Dean lifted his eyes to meet Castiel's and offered, "We can eat and I'll introduce you to everyone."

Castiel waited patiently as Dean doled out the slices of pie, keeping his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cardigans. As they were handed their plates, the other firefighters made their way to the semi circle of recliners, settling down on the plush brown leather.

There weren't enough seats for everyone, the blonde woman taking a seat on the arm of Charlie's recliner while the lanky guy set his hip against the side of Benny's chair. After handing Cas a plate of pie and a fork, Dean claimed the last recliner for himself.

With nowhere else to sit, unless he wanted to plop down on the floor with the dog who was sitting at the oddly familiar man's feet, panting and begging for scraps, Castiel hesitated. He only moved forward when Dean patted the arm of his recliner, gesturing him over with a bob of his head.

Feeling extremely awkward, Castiel carefully perched on Dean's recliner, waiting until everyone else started to eat before he let himself relax. There was a clatter of forks as everybody dug into their slices of still-warm pie, the metallic twang almost immediately followed by a collective moan of appreciation.

Castiel smiled to himself as he took a bite of his own. The caramel was warm and gooey on his tongue, the streusel topping sweet without being saccharine, the apples perfectly tender but not mushy.

"You seriously need to open up a bakery," Charlie informed him with a grave nod. Around a mouthful of pie, she amended, "Or at the very least help us out with the annual bake sale. Jo here can't bake to save her life."

Castiel was just about to ask who Jo was when Dean cleared his throat. "That reminds me. Here, Cas, lemme introduce everyone."

He used his fork to point, caramel and streusel topping still sticking to the stainless steel tines. Using said messy fork, Dean indicated the blonde woman, announcing, "That's Jo Harvelle. She's like the little sister I never wanted. Charlie, too, for that matter."

Jo gave a polite wave as she continued chewing her mouthful of pie. Charlie rolled her eyes at Dean, fondness visible in the gesture.

"Garth Fitzgerald IV," Dean said next, moving his fork to point at the scrawny guy. Garth raised a hand to wave, as well, setting his fork down for a moment.

"You've met Benny," Dean murmured dismissively, moving on to the bearded man in the baseball. He raised his hand in a small wave as Dean declared, "Bobby Singer."

Next, he pointed to the oddly familiar man who was close enough to Castiel to hold his hand out instead of waving. Castiel extended his own hand to shake the other man's as Dean finished, "And this is my dad, John Winchester."

For whatever reason, that little tidbit of information suddenly made Castiel even more nervous than he had been when the others had been asking about how much money he made. After John released his hand, he faltered a bit, fumbling with his fork and nearly dropping it.

A piece of pie crust fell onto the floor along with some streusel. Castiel was reaching down to pick it up when the German Shepherd loped over and eagerly lapped up the crumbs.

"And that's the Colonel," Dean explained as Castiel straightened up. After licking his chops, the German Shepherd set his head down on Castiel's lap, looking up at him with big brown eyes, silently begging for more.

Laying a hand on the top of the dog's muzzle, the bare skin of his arm brushing against Castiel's stomach, warm through the thin fabric of his button, Dean proudly stated, "He's pretty much our mascot."

They fell into companionable silence after that, the only comments a few glowing compliments from Bobby and John. That ended up sparking a lively discussion about what other baked goods were on Castiel's repertoire.

Charlie and Garth were very clearly in awe as he listed off the desserts and pastries he was most well acquainted with. His list ranged from French desserts like croquembouche and mille-feuille to more traditionally American pastries like donuts and all sorts of pies.

Jo insisted that he indeed participate in the fire department's annual bake sale, Benny and John seconding and thirding her announcement. Castiel admitted that he would love to participate, more than willing to burn off some stress by baking all sorts of desserts to benefit the men and women who had saved his life.

When everyone was finished their pie and there were only a few cupcakes left, Benny turning out to be a huge fan of the chocolate chili cupcakes, Castiel announced that he should be on his way. Gathering the empty trays, he had said his goodbyes, letting out a squeak of surprise when Garth and then Benny swept him up in tight hugs.

Dean's friends were much more affectionate than most of Castiel's family altogether. It was a bit jarring, in a good way.

"I'll walk you out," Dean offered, leading Castiel towards the stairs with a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was only once they were outside that Castiel realized how long he had been at the station, the sun hanging directly overhead.

After Dean deposited the empty trays in the backseat of the Continental, he turned back to Castiel who was fidgeting with the hem of his cardigan. Chewing on his bottom lip, he glanced between Dean and his shoes, trying to muster up the nerve to apologize.

"Dean?" He murmured questioningly, tilting his head to the side. Dean smiled and nodded patiently, encouraging Castiel to go on. "I just wanted to apologize. For...kissing you the other night. I—"

"Look, Cas, you don't have to apologize," Dean assured him, cutting him off before he could keep rambling on like an idiot. "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, I'm sure it happens all the time," Castiel replied sincerely, meaning every word. He nodded to himself as he said it, still fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Dean shook his head with a crooked grin. "Nope. Never."

"Oh..." Castiel whispered, feeling like an even bigger jackass. He rubbed the back of his neck, biting his lip again.

Then, before he could apologize again, there were two rough hands cupping his face and a pair of warm lips on his as Dean kissed him.

He was too shocked to do much else besides lean back against the side of the Continental as Dean deepened the kiss. His lips were smooth and just the tiniest bit wet as Dean swiped his tongue over the seam of Castiel's lips.

Throwing caution to the wind, Castiel looped his arms around Dean's neck, reeling him in even closer until their bodies were molded together from chest to knee. He eagerly returned the kiss, parting his lips to let Dean further deepen the kiss as he dropped one of his hands from Castiel's jaw, curling an arm around his waist instead.

Castiel had shared many kisses in his thirty two years. But this kiss with Dean was completely different.

There had been sweet, innocent, barely there kisses with Daphne. They were the kisses of first love, of naivete and romance.

There had been hungry, hurried, biting kisses with Meg. They were kisses with no purpose beyond progressing to sex, kisses of two young people seeking comfort in the flesh.

There had been comfortable, familiar, warm kisses with Mick. They had been Castiel's favorite up until then.

Dean's kiss was something different altogether. It was gentle and passionate and everything Castiel had ever imagined when he thought about the perfect kiss.

It ignited another fire, this time one that did not frighten Castiel. For this time, the flames flickered inside, somewhere deep in his chest.

He knew, in the back of his mind and the bottom of his heart, as warmth spread throughout every fiber of his being, this was what falling in love felt like. And that was more dangerous than any fire.

Send me Destiel prompts!

[percywinchester27]

Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge

Guess who came up with a challenge? That’s right! Your little fangirl over here presents her very first challenge, with prompts based on quotes from Rick Riordan’s books (Mostly PJO).

For those who have read the books, y’all know how hilarious the prompts can be. For those who haven’t, take a look at the prompts anyway! They might interest you :)

ALSO I have NO IDEA how these prompts fit in so well with SPN-verse. It had me baffled too. Trust me!

Rules:

You don’t have to be following me, but it would be nice :)

The due date is December 10th. If you wanna pull out, or need an extension, please let me know a week before. I know life can get really unpredictable, so we can work it out.

The minimum word count is 500 words, and maximum is 7k.

Please use a “keep reading” option after the first 500 words or so. I insist upon this.

It has to be a reader insert or a general fic. You can write for both characters as well as RPF (J2M only and No wife hate). It can be canon or it can be an AU.

You can write a fluffy, angsty or even smutty fic should the prompt inspire you, but please try not to make it a super detailed PWP fic, it’s just not my thing.

It can be a one shot, drabble or start of a series only.

Mention in the Author's note that it is for my (@percywinchester27) “Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge” and the prompt you’ve chosen. Use the hashtag #Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge in the first 5 tags so I can track it.

If I don’t like the post within 2 days, please IM me a link. Tumblr likes to be mean sometimes and there’s every chance that I didn’t get the tag.

Only one prompt per person. If you’ve already posted one entry, you can come back for another prompt.

Lastly, HAVE FUN!!

Send an Ask stating the prompt number and a backup in case the first one is taken along with the pairing.

Full prompt list below the cut:

Dialogue Prompts (Only the pronouns can be tweaked in the prompts):

“Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die.” @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester Dean X Reader

“We're staying together," he promised. "You're not getting away from me. Never again.” @bringmesomepie56 Dean X Reader

“Lots of death, huh? Personally, I'm trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!” @luci-in-trenchcoats Dean X Reader

“Ever had a flying burrito hit you? Well, it's a deadly projectile, right up there with cannonballs and grenades.” @jessicawritessmut Jensen x reader

“I try not to think. It interferes with being nuts” @homeschooledonmyhands sister!reader

He forced his fists to unclench. "Look, lady, we're not going to go all Hunger Games on each other. Isn't going to happen.” @melonshino dean x reader

“Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It just means that you’re brave enough to stand up and do what’s needed.” @nichelle-my-belle Dean X Reader

“Sugar and caffeine. My willpower crumbled.” @queencflair Dean X Reader

“Scrawny? Baby, I invented scrawny. Scrawny is the new sizzling hot.” @avengingandstuff   Steve Rogers X Reader

“Back in my day, we died all the time, and we liked it!” @drarina1737

“Catch that last episode of Doctor Who? Oh, right. You were trudging through the Pit of Eternal Damnation!” @dauntlessdiva Dean X Reader

“You can't choose your parentage. But you can choose your legacy.” @percussiongirl2017 sister!reader/ platonic!reader

“Everyone hates clowns," ------ said. "Even other clowns hate clowns.” @growningupgeek Sam X Reader

“You, sir, are a ray of sunshine. @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Dean X Reader

“I wake up every morning and think: You know what would be good today? Not dying.” @roxyspearing Dean X Reader

“Don't you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?''Um... no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.” @rizlow1 Dean X Reader

“I know, I'm an idiot!" he moaned. "A brilliant idiot, but still an idiot.”  @anticipate1003 gen fic

“That's what happens when it snows in Texas lady. It. Freaking. Melts.” @evil-spn-girl Jared X Reader

“Decapitation is not a healthy lifestyle choice.” @justanotherdeangirl Dean X Reader

“How come I never get invited on these violent trips?” @uniquewerewolfsuit Jared X Reader

“She didn’t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. “Hey, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.”He gave her that smirk she’d come to love. “Who, me?”He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.” @torn-and-frayed Dean X Reader

“I gave her my deluxe I'll-Kill-You-Later stare.” @jayankles Jensen x reader

“You drool when you sleep.” @captainemwinchester Dean X reader

“Delaying death is one of my favorite hobbies” @boxywrites Alpha!Dean X Omega!Reader

“What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.”  @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel Dean X reader

“Daddy will explain. Come, he is blowing up monsters.” @sea040561 Misha X Reader

“We'll have to work on your bunny phobia later.” @crispychrissy Dean X Reader

“Life is only precious because it ends, kid.” @summer-binging-spn  Dean X Reader

“Met them. Killed them. Got the T-shirt.”  @internationalfandomgirl  Sam X Reader

“The thing about plummetting downhill at fifty miles an hour on a snack platter - if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too late.”  @iputthesininbuisness  Dean X Reader

“We’ve all got weaknesses. Me, for instance. I’m tragically funny and good-looking.” @imaginesforthose-wholovefandoms Dean X Reader

“I hate this plan,” I said. “Let’s do it.” @plaidstiel-wormstache Dean X Reader

“If I'm dead," he murmured. "Why does it hurt so much?” @grace-for-sale

“Oh, did you expect me to play fair?" Cupid laughed. "I am the god of love. I am never fair.” @mysupernaturalfics Dean X Reader

“With great power... comes need to take a nap. Wake me up later” @winchesterprincessbride Sam X Reader

“I try very hard to be annoying. Don’t insult my ability to annoy.” @captainradicalpassion Dean x Reader

“I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have too.” @deanssweatheart23  Dean X Reader

“I tried to think of something to say. Excuse me? Hello? Marry me? Anything would have done.” @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Jensen X Reader

“Clearly, the conversation is giving your two brain cells a serious workout.” @winchester-smut dean X reader

“I've seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did? That was maybe the bravest.” @supernatural-jackles Dean/ Jensen X Reader

Sentence prompts (If you wanna use these as dialogue prompt, go ahead! But you can’t tweak them except the pronouns):

41. It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one. @imweirdandobsessed Sam X Reader

42. Far, far below, red liquid bubbled. Blood? Lava? Evil ketchup? None of the possibilities were good. @sdavid09  Gabriel x Reader

43. When she kissed me, I had the feeling my brain was melting right through my body. @samwinjarpad Sam X Reader

44. She'd secretly had a crush on him since they were twelve years old. Last summer, she'd fallen for him hard. @secretlyfurrydragon Jensen X Reader AU

45. She grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, which effectively shut him up. @darcy-winters Dean X Reader

46. I gave the dwarves an arrogant look, like, Yeah, that’s right. I’ve got a talking disco sword and you don’t. @sdavid09 

47. The plan had three phases: dangerous, really dangerous and insanely dangerous.   @thebitterbookeater Peter Parker X Reader

48. Her hair is smoldering. Her face was smudged with soot. She had a cut on her arms, her dress was torn, and she was missing a boot. Beautiful.  @docharleythegeekqueen  Dean X Reader

49. Humor was a good way to hide the pain. @kas-not-cas Dean X Reader 

50. Myths are simply stories about truths we've forgotten. @justme-noonebutme

51. It was a crazy idea. But, as usual, that’s all he had. @acreativelydifferentlove  Dean X Reader

52. “It's okay,” he said. “We're together.” He didn't say you're okay, or we're alive. After all they'd been through over the last year, he knew that the most important thing was that they were together. She loved him for saying that.” @sams-bubblegum-bitch

53. She looked at me, like she was drinking in the fact that I was still here. And I realized I was doing the same thing. The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive. @ravengirl94 Dean X Reader

54. No one can hate you with more intensity than someone who used to love you. @mrspadalackles  Dean X Reader

55. He didn't think much of fates and prophecies, but he did believe in one thing: ------- and he were supposed to be together. @jotink78 Dean X Reader

*This is mostly for the SPN-verse. But should a prompt really speak to you, for Marvel or HP, feel free to IM me with your idea and fandom. If I read those, maybe we can work it out* 

Tagging folks off the top of my head who might be interested in participating and/ or signal boosting:

@sdavid09 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @grace-for-sale @kas-not-cas @blacktithe7 @mysupernaturalfics @feelmyroarrrr @melonberri @torn-and-frayed @bringmesomepie56 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @supernatural-jackles @mrswhozeewhatsis @mamapeterson @atc74 @jayankles @chelsea072498 @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @kittenofdoomage @winchesterprincessbride @iwantthedean @impalaimagining @impala-dreamer @luci-in-trenchcoats @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @deanssweetheart23 @ravengirl94 @jotink78 @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

[jandjsalmon]

What other fics are your faves/masterpieces?

Oooh grayface! You ask the hard questions.

I struggled with answering this over the last couple days for a couple reasons. FIRSTLY - as I tried to compile the list, I got caught up rereading a bunch. I’ve spent the better part of three days either refreshing my Instagram to flail over lilicole at Coachella, or rereading old favourite fanfics. Total time!suck. lol.

Also, like I’ve said in the past, I read A LOT of fic. Like, I think I was several thousand fics last year (Completed and WIPS) on top of the 53 original novels I read for my goodreads challenge in 2016). I read a lot of fic and honestly, I *like* most of the fics I finish because if I hate something or it doesn’t give me joy, I’m not going to continue reading it. (As an example, just recently, I stopped reading a fic by a friend of mine - not because it’s terrible writing (because it wasn’t) or because I don’t love my friend (cuz I do - she’s talented and wonderful and kind and every good thing) - but because every update of the story was giving me anxiety and literal rage at the characters to the point where I was unproductive in real life because I was so mad. Fic is supposed to be fun - even angsty and emotional fic - so I literally had to unsubscribe and take a step back a bit. I still love her, and will read other stories by her - just not that one anymore. It’s a complex thing. So, there’s that.

And then there is the fact that I like a lot of fics that I wouldn’t call MASTERPIECES but… I *liked* them. It’s hard to know what crosses that line into epic awesomeness. I generally bookmark my particular favourites but again - does that mean I think they’re all MASTERPIECES? What does being a MASTERPIECE entail? And maybe there is fic that I absolutely am over the moon about - that other people wonder “What’s the big deal?” There are several favourites of mine that could be like that.

And what if a fic is short? Most Masterpieces are usually Tolstoy length, aren’t they? Sometimes. But sometimes they’re short and perfect and speak to me RIGHT NOW (before more canon makes them suddenly AU) but reading them after isn’t as gut punchy. And sometimes they start as AU and yet they’re still freaking spectacular.

And I hate to throw even one more wrench into the problem - but here’s another: I’ve been around fandom in general for a LONG time. Like 12 years. 12 years where I was really active in fic writing/reading/reviewing/betaing/reccing etc. That makes for a LOT of different specific fandoms. Are you interested in the fics I fell in love with 10 years ago when all I read was Draco/Ginny? Or what about my Sherlolly love? Or Hiccastrid? Or Gendarya? Or Violate? Or Shenny? Or Reylo? Or most recently Bughead? Like - I have a lot of favourites that I read and reread over and over again in all of those fandoms.

And what if a MASTERPIECE is a fan favourite? Does it HAVE to be a fan favourite? Maybe it was written by a BNF and maybe it wasn’t. I was accused of BEING a BNF once (which is laughable - as I’ve mentioned in posts before, I’m a collector of BNF friends - I don’t claim to be one myself) - but does that colour whether I think something is a MASTERPIECE or not?

Does my opinion even matter for that matter?

One last thing before I actually give you a mini list of just a FEW of my favourite “Masterpiece” fics. As I’ve said, I like to collect writers. It’s kinda selfish of me - but I like to surround myself with fandom friends who have so much talent that the metaphorical room is thick with it. Probably because I’m only a mediocre writer myself - but I sure do know how to fangirl people who deserve praise. So, sometimes I love an author so much that every thing they write is a Mastepiece to me. How can I choose when everything they write is so perfect?

You see why this is a SUPER tough question?

ANYWAY - if you got through that, you deserve some links. Remember, some of these will be in fandoms that you aren’t into, greyface. But I hope one or two of them catch your eye. I loved each and every one of them.

And if you’re a writer, and I’ve loved on one of your stories with comments and praise and yet it’s NOT mentioned right here - that doesn’t mean that in the eyes of “Jandy Salmon” it’s not a Masterpiece, it just means that I had so much to choose from and such conflicting feelings about which/how many to share that it didn’t get mentioned. But remember, I’m sincere in every review I leave - and I try to leave at least fangirly squeeing on like 95% of the stories/chapters I read (which is a freaking lot). It’s been a while since I posted fic, but I /still/ receive reviews that make my heart happy and I think being actively engaged with reviews helps build connections with the authors I love.

Right? Okay Right. Here’s the list of just a FEW of my favourites (fics that I would probably call MASTERPIECES) that I read over and over again because I love them THAT much:

List Compiled April 17/2017

Jane Austen

The Effect Series by Shem (Kitty Bennet/OC, Lizzie/Darcy)

http://archiveofourown.org/series/115954

Everingham by katharhino (Fanny Price/Henry Crawford)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/279556

Mansfield End by Ione (Fanny Price/Henry Crawford)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1072559

How to Train your Dragon

Simple Gifts by Ecoutez (Hiccup/Astrid)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1925469

The Element of Surprise by Ecoutez (Hiccastrid)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343291

Game of Thrones

Not Today by ebmordecai (Arya/Gendry)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/407295?view_full_work=true

Pretty much any (Jaime/Brienne) fic by SigilBroken but especially these two series’:

Honour Thy Regard http://archiveofourown.org/series/48322

In this Light http://archiveofourown.org/series/53759

Sherlock (Sherlolly)

Longer Than the Road That Stretches Out Ahead by sunken_standard

http://archiveofourown.org/works/434802

In the End by Lono

http://archiveofourown.org/works/671569/

The Deaf and the Blind and the Color Red by Solshine

http://archiveofourown.org/works/375335

The Falling by Petra Todd

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8455202/1/The-Falling

The Full House by Emcee

http://archiveofourown.org/series/18800

That 70s Show (Hyde/Jackie)

Hyde’s Long Way Home by MistyMountainHop https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7072364/1/Hyde-s-Long-Way-Home

Sky High (Warren/Layla)

Why Villains Have A Better Life By  KFD

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4297395/1/Why-Villains-Have-A-Better-Life

It Just Takes Some Time By Half-elf

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3878294/1/It-Just-Takes-Some-Time

The Office (Jim/Pam)

Oracle Mom By time4moxie https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3893458/1/Oracle-Mom

In My Life, I Love You More By bluelimit https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6420571/1/In-My-Life-I-Love-You-More

Laugh this Life with Me by shannanagin https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2853729/1/This-Life-With-Me

Big Bang Theory (Shenny)

the paladin protocol by spaceanjl https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5623923/1/

miles to go (before i sleep) by medusa20 http://archiveofourown.org/works/250535/chapters/387524

& light is only now just breaking by allthingsholy http://archiveofourown.org/works/154681

the road ahead is clear again by notalwaysweak http://archiveofourown.org/works/250525/chapters/387513

Doctor Who (mostly Ten/Rose)

Chaos Verse by earlgreytea68 (The whole collection is AMAZING) http://earlgreytea68.livejournal.com/82528.html

Welcome To Your Life by cenowar https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3130472/1/Welcome-To-Your-Life

Life As You Know It by cenowar https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3575257/1/Life-As-You-Know-It

Battlestar Galatica (Lee/Kara)

Alone Time by alissabobissa http://beyond-insane.livejournal.com/601124.html

Any and EVERY Starbuck/Apollo fic by hackaddict  (Freaking MASTER of BSG fic) http://hackaddict.livejournal.com/tag/starbuck%2Fapollo

Harry Potter

For our allotted time is the passing of a shadow by florahart (Cedric/Hermione *whut?*) http://hp-springsmut.livejournal.com/79314.html

Under by Tudorrose1533 (Draco/Ginny)

http://dracoandginny.com/viewstory.php?sid=5065&chapter=1

The More is My Unrest by Arabella and Jedi Boadicea (Draco/Ginny)

http://www.sugarquill.net/read.php?storyid=848&chapno=1

American Horror Story (Violate)

Sucker Love by Tjoek  *Incomplete but still a Masterpiece* https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7612662/1/Sucker-Love  

You have been Weighed by Shootingstella http://ahs-exchange.livejournal.com/8634.html

Then anything written by @lolableu (who also writes awesome Divergent fanfic btw), GrayGlube @whatwouldflorencedo (also awesome GoT fic), ScarletWoman @feelavalanche (also started one of my fave Veronica Mars WIPs), and OhYellowBird @ohhyellowbird (also wrote a freaking AMAZING Reylo fic too). These girls are my Awesome Nerds - my Lunchtable girls and I love them. There is no higher praise than that. Read them.

Veronica Mars (Dick/Mac)

Sinclair-Mackenzie  by BIFF1 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10127131/1/Sinclair-Mackenzie

Mercy on the Undeserved By LVfangirl https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10310550/1/Mercy-on-the-Undeserved

Star Wars (Reylo) - probably the hardest section to choose from - because I’ve literally read over 1000 fics in the last year and bookmarked nearly 100 which I *liked/loved*.

Firstly - read anything by diasterisms (kylorenvevo) - especially Ghostwalks (Gin and Fog) http://archiveofourown.org/works/6931657 (there are only like a dozen stories so I’m serious when I say read them all. *waves fangirly flag*

when there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire. by ohyellowbird (told you she’d show up down here) http://archiveofourown.org/works/5564245

Forms by Trebia  (a fandom staple) http://archiveofourown.org/works/5454443

Isolation by TearoomSaloon http://archiveofourown.org/works/5937457

Sky Marked Souls by AnonymousMink http://archiveofourown.org/works/5816995

On a White Horse by ms_qualia http://archiveofourown.org/works/5863972

Ahgh - there are just so many Reylo fics. This is definitely not a definitive list. Read terapid, corariley, and perrydowning too. I promise I love SO many and all of you writers are freaking brilliant.

OKAY - and lastly Bughead (Riverdale). I am still very active in this fandom, and it's constantly evolving - so I recommend you check out my Mod Faves tag at the @blueandgoldoffice for my current favourites. 🤙

[cjostrander]

Three Days Grace: Transit of Venus

Hello everyone; today i am going to tackle the last album with Adam Gontier on vocals. It hits its five year mark next month and for a anniversary review i wanted to tackled something a bit more brief than yesterday. I won’t go too much into the drama behind Adam’s departure from what i saw; it’s basically a combination of health issues and him not feeling like the band was staying true to their roots as opposed to focusing on being a commercial success. This was an interesting album due to some new techniques they brought out; but overall is going to be an easy offering for fans to get into. Let’s get started and see if that rings true.

Sign of the Times: This opening track starts off with some complex string elements and guitar echos. It has a bit of a jazzy after feeling to it and Adam’s opening vocals do a decent job of injecting a bit of mystery into the atmosphere while the listener gets a feel for this album’s direction. The vocals and instruments take a nicely aggressive rhythm as Adam gets going but stays true to the slow churning rhythm that it began with. For me it is a bit of a hit or miss track since it provides interest solely as an opener for the album and if it was placed later on it would be an easy filler piece. Adam does do a decent job /vocally so it passes by smoothly for what it is intended to. From what i remember; this is as close to a filler track as we get so good news for you ha ha. 7/10

Chalk Outline (single): This lead single features them taking on a bit of an electronic tone in terms of guitar work. The guitars begin the song with a strong rhythm blast and Adam eases his way into the song with some of his signature angst vocals. The lyrics prove interesting but the fresh electronics of the guitars do well to attract attention on their own. The chorus is very powerful and Adam easily infuses the song with a nice dose of rebellious emotion that their older work was known for. It does have a nice rhythmic balance from the bass and drums despite their simple structure. Adam and the guitars are definitely a high focal point on this song and despite it’s simple nature it does very well at presenting itself as a strong radio single and live hit for the fans to grab hold of. Had Adam stayed; i definitely hoped that this song was the format for their future sound but after hearing Adam’s work with Saint Asonia (i reviewed their debut album and it was sweet!) i’m glad he went on to form that group. It is basically Three Days Grace but with the added complexity and aggression that the band needed to stick out. I havent heard the new singer much (have liked what i heard) but i’ve always viewed that without Adam’s vocals the band would be way too generic and simple to really stick out on their own. At least as far as things look now; its all for the better. 9/10

The High Road (single): This second single which got a nice deal of attention on the radio is a more somber ballad that listeners will find familiar to their previous album Life Starts Now. Adam immediately begins with some dark and gloomy vocals that prove rather interesting and emotionally captivating. The guitars and drums infuse the song with a nice level of electronically rhythmic power that the prior song thrived on. The lyrics will prove to be another prominent focal point for this song aside from the sufficient instrumental support and Adam’s consistently strong vocals. He does well to have some elements of positivity that he gained on Life Starts Now. The sort-of guitar solo is an interesting piece to prop up Adam’s angstier moment in the song and helps him to progress the song towards its end without any disappointments. I could understand this one being criticized a bit for being too straightforward but it’s simplicity helps to make it an easy track for capturing a wide audience range on the radio. I’m sure it’s live potential is easy; but wouldnt be a fan favorite in my opinion. Other than that; it is another song that does well at what it is aiming for. 8.5/10

Operate: This song ventures into a more aggressive stance than the last song and Adam opens with a single guitar support and lively vocal presence. It does well to get the listener up and moving with such little presence. The bass/drum rhythm is a nice approach that Adam’s voice resonates off of quite effectively. The chorus is pretty basic but the instrumentals do well to give it the life needed to be appreciated by the listener. The casual lyrics however are pretty solid and will be a strong focal point for the listener to pay attention to. Despite being a standard 3 and a half minute long song; they do well to stretch things out without making things feel stretched. The layered rock tinge of the guitars will also be a good live effect as well. 8.5/10

Anonymous: This one begins similar to the High Road and Adam opens to a rhythmic guitar melody with very soothing yet wounded vocals. His lyrics are very thought provoking and the chorus pours a high degree of angsty power into the listener’s ear-waves. The strong bass rumble will make this a nice song to unwind to while still being energized enough to get a steady dance pace going. The backing vocals do give it a nice lift towards the end that will help the song to avoid coming off as overly predicable as one may expect from this band. Not a bad toss in track to switch up their live tracks as well. 8/10

Misery Loves My Company (single): This final single begins with some steadily tense guitar riffs and groovy drum patterns. Adam comes in with a high degree of swagger that will kill it during a live performance. Adam provides the chorus with a nice degree of defiance that helps to give his straightforward lyrics the lift they need to be appreciated and focused on by the listener. I do give the drums props this time for sticking out a bit more and adding something to the instrumentals than they usually ever do on other songs. For having the drummer from Tool as an influence; you definitely don’t see it in his playing style. He’s easily a background support drummer while the guitars provide whatever focal points the vocals fail to capture. Speaking of that; the guitar solo on this one is decent and will be a good piece to point when you are starting to zone out. 8/10

Give in to Me (Michael Jackson cover): This odd yet interesting choice to cover concludes the middle point of the album with some low and moody guitar riffs. Adam enters with a more angsty delivery that borders on whiney during the beginning. Adam manages to prop himself once the chorus arrives but while it is pulled off; you still feel that something is a bit off for being a Three Days Grace song. The guitars are bit more simple as a result if that could be imagined but Adam does pull it together a bit towards the end of the song. This isn’t a bad piece but for the album flow does sound like a filler piece except for the fact that they were trying something risky with cover on one of their albums (new). I would likely pass on this but if you are a MJ fan and this is actually a good cover ( i wouldn't know honestly) then it’ll be great for you! 6/10

Happiness: This lively jam track begins with some fast moving guitar riffs and pounding drum beats. The bass infuses the song with a nice degree of tension and Adam’s opening proves to be a very strong segment to point out on this album. His chorus is expertly spaced out and full of straightforward power. The lyrics manage to give it a nice level of substance that will keep the listener interested for the duration of the song. the fast paced instrumentals will do well to get an audience up and moving and may very well be one of their favorite songs off of this album to see live. This is definitely work out material! 9/10

Give Me a Reason: I believe this was one of Adam’s favorite songs off of this album (wasn’t a fan when it was released/no shit). I begins with a very soothing string opening and a simple but melodically effective guitar opening. The drums do give it a nice little hardness to appreciate while Adam hums his way into his first lyrics. The lyrics prove to be a decent focal point while the instrumentals work in a little extra rhythm into the atmosphere.  The chorus evokes a high degree of pleading emotion that i am sure a fan will find very thought provoking when first encountered. As a live piece; it will depend on the set list; but i could see the easy potential for building up certain segments well so that the audience could interact with them. I definitely like the drum bashing towards the end because that hardness is exactly what this drummer needs to give more of in future releases. It actually captures more attention than the guitars and bass for a change; and is surprisingly on the level of the vocals for a change. Not bad! 8.5/10

Time That Remains: Adam starts this one up quickly over an electronic rhythm support. Acoustic guitars and soothing drum patterns surprisingly open up to awe the listener and hit them with a level of complexity that is really unexpected from them. The lyrics capture a high degree of attention on top of the instrumentals and the chorus would be an easy piece for somebody to sing along to as well. The chorus i’m sure will have a positive impact on an audience and will help make for a very intimate performance as well. This would be a decent single for them but with the chaos of Adam’s departure; i’m surprised the last two singles managed to come out at all. This also has very good closing potential for the album too if you were curious. 9/10

Expectations: Sinister sounding electronic chimes start this song off before aggressive guitars roar their way into the mix. Adam has a rather dark entrance into the song and delivers some very gloomy lyrics that will do very well at capturing the listener’s attention. The chorus is basic but brings enough power to stretch things out before the more impressive casual verses return. Adam does manage to really bring life out of the chorus towards the end of the song and will help to make it more impressive than it was when it first surfaced. The keys definitely help to make this possible as well and give you a feeling that this album is approaching its end soon. 8.5/10

Broken Glass: This aggressive rocker begins as a more familiar one to fans and uses layered guitars to give Adam’s vocals a nice echo quality. The drum beat is rather groovy and will help to ensure that Adam’s voice succeeds in getting an audience up and moving with ease. The chorus is simple but very enjoyable and will easily kill it during a live performance. I have to give the lyrics props because they do very well at helping the instrumentals infuse this song with as much life as possible before the finale track surfaces. If the finale piece doesnt end the album on a strong note; you can’t say the album flow didnt at least set it up well. 9/10

Unbreakable Heart: This finale track begins with a very soothing guitar opening and relaxing vocals from Adam. His lyrics prove to be very thought provoking and the drums and bass do well to work with the keys to establish a lively format that is heavily reminiscent of Flyleaf. If Flyleaf covered this song; i would have a hard time noticing it as a cover ha ha. The song manages to pass by rather smoothly and Adam does well at relaxing the listener while still wowing them as the album concludes. Definitely not a bad closer for them due to its balance and general lack of lacking lol. 8.5/10

Overall album rating: 8.3/10

Well out of three albums that i’ve reviewed for the band; this and Life Starts Now tie for last place on my Three Days Grace section. It is a nice album that while it is very simple; it works well with what it has and Adam is undeniably a key component in what makes albums like this one succeed. I suggest checking it out and next time i will start widdling down the more urgent anniversary reviews as i get time. This one was just something to tie you over till i get more time while still being able to scratch something decent off of the list. Hope you enjoy and i will get back to you shorty. I’m thinking Fall Out Boy’s Infinity on High if that catches anyones attention.

*Reviewer’s Pick*

[ecotone99]

[RF] A scattered narrative of disassociation :or: Her story

I want to tell you a story.

Her story.

It’s like the ones I usually tell. No, this one will be written by her and her alone. She is, after all, the mastermind behind all this. The author, if you will.

Shall I introduce you to her? You’ve must have met her before. Seen her everyday of your life, actually. She’s pretty shy you know, doesn’t talk, doesn’t get out much, doesn’t know who she is yet, really.

I don’t get wet though the ocean sprays me. I don’t get erect though the devils chase me. I have to know before the wind and hope it doesn’t damn me. I’m a wisp, a waifu, a wife, though only one at a time. I follow that dream into the sunset then make up the next day. Maybe if I stay awake longer the dream will persist. A sentiment without thought or image existing into a form permeable through the pores of my skin. I’m an adaptable maladaptive. A sore upon the psyche. Breathe in and I am here, breathe out and I am here, breathe in and out and I am gone. There is chaos in the ordered automatic, a great yearning for the imposed struggle. I can plunge into the abyss until my feet touch the ground. There is no fear of falling, there is a fear of heights. I am falling from a great height from a low point in a high mind. Oh, how tall the sky is! How majestic blue prisms peak behind ashen clouds of water and dust that cloud around my hair and whisper, “you’re not short enough, your hair’s not long enough.” Space vacuum above me, hello stars, hello moon, termite mound below me, I can’t fit through that hole. This is how they view me. This is how I view myself. This is how they warn me. This is how I stop myself.

She’s asking why she’s denied the love you so easily possessed.

I’ll try my best to decode her words, but this is all stream of consciousness type stuff. You know, the usual angsty teen drivel. Eh, it’s not all drivel, I guess. There’s a lot of rich thought behind what she’s saying, but it’s all lost in her poetic endearments to the inanimate and sentimental. And her crushing dysphoria.

I left with the wind. Yes, that is what I will call myself. Alice. Wind-child. As true as the meaning I gave to it.

I don’t think the name “Alice” has anything to do with the wind outside of her calling herself that when the wind was blowing through her hair.

Oh, look I was distracted again. By myself? Possibly. Am I by myself? Absolutely.

How poignant.

I want to get a haircut. Not to cut it short, but to make it longer. A haircut like a shortcut. A long way away.

This is what dysphoria does to people, I assume. What’s never enough is never good enough.

I’ve gotta learn how to read. Then the signs this guy’s giving me will finally be clear. Clear. I’d love to be. Body, soul, and mind through the life of Christ led us to death to save us all, hallelujah.

Ah, now we’re getting into the big question, “am I a good Christian?” I’ve heard her talk about this one before. There’s a lot to digest here and it’s not all about her questioning herself… well, actually yea, it all about her questioning herself let’s continue.

I remember a conversation with my father a couple of years ago. He talked about something I can’t remember. Either due to lack of focus, or lack of remembering. Either one is the same result, and therefore the same thing. I wasn’t listening.

She’s referring to her confessing homosexual inclinations to her father. He was as dismissive as she was aloof about the whole situation. She convinced herself that she had nothing to fear, and her father did the same. Her inability to communicate intimately with her father further compounded her self-doubt.

It’s more important to do one thing than another. Of course, that much is truthful and honest.

Is she talking about anything specific here? I don’t know, probably. Let’s just assume it’s about the main topic and not something wildly off key.

Dream on you little dreamer, you’ll fall asleep soon.

Ok yea, this is starting to sound wildly off key. I think she’s about to go on an incoherent tangent.

Don’t you know everyone’s out there waiting for you? They’ll be over soon. Forget what I said earlier, this isn’t about you, this is about me, and all reality and metaphor turns, to attention towards it and wonders.

Oh look, I was right.

How soon can we go? How soon can we see? How soon can we wander and wonder and be? Well there’s nothing quite like it, and that’s easy to tell. I love you so much, in heaven or hell.

That last part is the instance of identifiable meaning. You think I’m transcribing more than I should but trust me, I can’t keep up with how fast this girl thinks. I’d say “how much” she thinks, but that’d imply a theory of value that I’m unconvinced her “thought process” has. Regardless, she deserves credit for what she’s doing. She’s scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel for answers to questions she’s never asked.

Goodness gracious, now she’s got me all cryptic. Sorry, I’ll try to keep things straight in the future.

Let’s see what else she has to say first though.

She wants to go back to what she was talking about earlier, that part about loving someone in heaven or hell. I’m pretty curious about that part myself so I’m glad she’s addressing it again.

“Heaven and Hell,” she explains, “are full of God’s… Hello!” she got distracted by someone walking by.

Except that whole interaction was in her head, which she hasn’t gotten out of yet.

…

Are you just not gonna talk now Alice?

…

Because of what I said? Really?

…

Ok, fine! Sorry for hurting your feelings Alice, please continue talking about how much “big sad” you experience on a daily basis.

… ?

And you’re a beautiful person who is visible and valid and blah blah blah I love you get on with it.

“Did he name all things,” she asked to the paper sky, “or did he command us to argue about whether or not he’s a guy?”

Language is the only weapon God gave us. Creation gave everything purpose, language gave everything meaning. God created Adam and Eve, but we created man and woman.

What? That doesn’t make sense?

Ok, Alice wants me to explain what we’re trying to say here. Basically, God created Adam and Eve, but it was our language, our understanding of what it MEANT to be Adam and Eve that made them “Adam” and “Eve” or “man” and “woman.” Speaking of which (pun intended), how do we even know they were called “Adam” and “Eve?” There wasn’t the separation of language yet, so what they were speaking in God tongue? Did their names “sound” like Adam and Eve in English? Or did they sound like their respective names in every modern language. Blah, too many questions to assume it’s binary, hope that clears things up though!

It didn’t?

Well, too bad, read the Bible.

“Hello friend,” Wait, who’s she talking to again? That random guy, or me? “I’d like to get to know you, if you don’t mind too terribly.”

Wait, Alice gimmie a sec, let me get back on track here…

“It’s like getting drunk in prison...”

And there she goes.

“…there’s nowhere to loose an aching mind, so it leaks all across the eyes and tongue.”

Ok? You feel stuck in your head, alright we got that part, go on.

“It’s like strips of newspaper,” I don’t know where she got that analogy from. Maybe taking a story apart to suit your narrative? “you take it apart and the words fall apart. What am I supposed to read? What am I supposed to wear?”

Maybe she’s talking about how she’s restructuring her life around her thought? The questions themselves imply a measure of dualism, like she’s bouncing ideas off herself.

Oh, does that mean I’m supposed to answer her questions then? Cause I know what she wants in these, Reddit memes and swooshy skirts.

“What am I supposed… to think?” now we’re getting somewhere.

…

Hm, she went silent for a bit there. I tried asking her what she was thinking about, but she was too busy thinking. I suppose that was an appropriate reaction.

…

She’s still not talking. Great. I want her to break down her character. Deconstruct rather than decompose for once. Her questions were reaching into the belly of the beast, why didn’t she keep going?

There are many things out to get me at once. All looking to change my opinion all looking to change who I am. Let me make this perfectly clear, who I am, will never change, I am as I as I can be. There is no other I but I if you believe me but be careful that you do for you’ll wish you didn’t. Forget what I’ve been saying. If you do this, then all will be well with you. Because if you consider what I’m saying, I shouldn’t be saying it.

Alice. Alice, c’mon. C’mon on out. I’m not going to hurt you.

You see that horizon, Alice? It’s not the sun you’re looking at, it’s an angel breaking through the clouds like a dream sequestered on music and art as a combination of Heaven and Verse. There is only one outcome. Euphoria.

That didn’t make any sense. I know. But neither does this feeling, so why should the explanation lie about it?

“I wonder if they wrote the Bible this way,” she wonders, “I wonder if this is how the…

I want my happiness to blossom

Not fade in the morning light

So I’ll stay within my daydream

And sink into the sun.

submitted by /u/thezeroinGod [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/34mho8N

[onetruefairytale]

Twenty-Five.

It’s been a month since I turned 25. In all my years of writing posts for my birthday, I have never waited so long past the actual day. There are a lot of reasons for the pause this year.

Deadlines at work.

End dates at practicum.

Assignments at university.

Ferry sailings.

Wedding planning.

Surgeries.

Death.

Love.

Endings and beginnings, and everyday living betwixt and between them both.

The ordinary, sacred business of life.

So here I am, 25 for a whole month already, sitting down to write this post. Writing these each birthday has always been an act of self-care. A time of self-reflection, a time to look at all God has taught me in the year past, and a time to be thankful, and angry, and joyful, and sad, and relieved, and all the other kinds of emotions that the turning of the year brings up.

Usually, I sit down at the computer, and the words for the year just pour out of me. Easy, natural, life-giving. Like breathing.

Not this year. This year, I feel so much that it is paralyzing me. My fingers are tripping over each other, and I feel clunky as I hit the keys. What will emerge from within me, this year? How can I possibly wrangle this hellish, beautiful year into cohesive prose? Essays of any kind, be they creative or academic, must have some semblance of order, mustn’t they? I am unsure if I can collect this chaos.

That sounds incredibly angsty and melodramatic. And it is. But also, it isn’t.

This was a year of incredible contradiction. One of my best friends dubbed it “the year of change.” I have never known anything to be more accurate.

I have never so thoroughly understood that famous opening line from A Tale of Two Cities:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

Nothing else I have come upon better describes my life at twenty-four than that Dickens quote. And I kind of despise that, because Dickens is my least favourite of the long-beloved authors, even if we do share a birthday. Even so, the last year of my first quarter century on earth was tumultuous, exciting, terrifying, exhilarating, miraculous, heart wrenching, extravagantly gorgeous, hard, holy, hellish and heavenly in equal measure.

Why?

Well…

I fell in love.

I also left my beloved job, found out I was sicker than I thought I was, started a bunch of new medications, had to relinquish my long-fought-for post grad plan because of said illness, released more dreams than I ever thought I would, found some bigger dreams to replace them , questioned some theology, changed some long-held beliefs and perspectives, stretched myself professionally and academically, decided to get married, had over half my best friends also decide to get married, planned a graduation, and a wedding and an uprooting, redefined what I knew of myself and my place in the world, confronted my own mortality and the mortality of my closest people in a stark new way, and lost one of the greatest pillars of my young life—my grandmother.

A year ago, I actually knew most of that was coming. Not all of it, but most of it.

I didn’t know it would all come at once!

I wasn’t prepared, of course, for how can one possibly prepare for that much upheaval in so short a time frame? I have never been more aware of the short span of twelve months.

I have also never been more aware of the sovereignty of God.

I read my last birthday post earlier today, and I was overcome with thankfulness, because my twenty-fourth year, as I describe it in that post, was exactly what I needed in order to confront my twenty-fifth. When I turned twenty-four, I described the year I had just lived—my twenty-fourth— as “a year for becoming.”

(I was twenty-three, so that was my twenty-fourth trip around the sun. Right? Yes. Right. Sorry…just checking the math. I get why some cultures count your years before they happen, unlike us in the West, who mark them as they have passed. It can get confusing! Like, this is my twenty-sixth year, because I’m twenty-five. Which means I’ve lived a whole quarter century! Woah. Okay, sorry, end side note.)

A year for becoming. Yes, indeed it was. It was a stabilizing year, a good year, a year of plenty. A year on even ground. And as I left it, I had no idea how steep the incline of my next year would be.

I needed that year, and the peacefulness of it, and the deep-rootedness of it, in order to brave the next, and all that was to come. At the end of my “Twenty-Four” post, I wrote: “…Hello, Twenty-Four. To live is a very great adventure indeed. What’s next?”

The answer to that question could be put something like this: “What’s next? Oh, just everything. Incessantly, and all at once. Have fun with that!”

I think, though, that there would also have been a disclaimer attached: “Have fun with that! And know that even though it will all feel like too much, you will always have exactly enough to get through it. Enough heart, enough strength, enough trust, enough kindness, enough empathy, enough steadfastness, enough energy, enough courage, enough grace. The music may be cacophonous, but the conductor will cue everything perfectly, all the same. And in the end, it will be beautiful.”

Oh, so beautiful.

Just before Christmas, I told my fiancé that this past year had been the best-worst year of my life. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but it went something like this: “I fell in love with you, and we got engaged and so that makes it the best year yet, full stop.  I lived hard and bright. I had such fun, and I learned and loved, and changed and grew. But… I also hurt for over half the year, and felt like death most of the time because of meds, and had to deal with my body betraying me. I’m pretty sure if I caught meningitis we wouldn’t even know it, because my med reactions have all those symptoms anyways. And I have never felt so insecure in my body-image. I’ve had to deal with more physical limitations than I ever have, and that’s a hugely humbling thing, because I’m not used to being down for the count like this. And I’m so type-A! And I don’t know how to just stop and be. And there is SO MUCH happening all at once! And it’s a lot of good things, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I have never been angrier at God, nor have I ever been more certain of Him. So yeah. This year, man.”

In response, he gave me a t-shirt for Christmas from To Write Love on Her Arms, and said “this is for the most resilient woman I know. You’ve had a hard year, and you have been stubborn and faithful, and you’ve grown in the midst of it.”

On the front of the shirt are these words:

“Despite the condition of the soil, I will choose to bloom.”

It made me cry. And since then, I have been reflecting a lot on the theme of growing and blooming—on the theme of gardening.

It’s been a recurring theme this year. The songs that have stood out to me, the verses in scripture that have nestled into my heart, the words wise people have spoken into my life, and into mine and Braedan’s relationship. So many of these have centred around this idea of growing, building, rising upwards.

O-oh, this I know, everything changes as it grows!

I can see redemption, growing in the trees, the death and resurrection of every single seed.

Like a seed in the snow, I’ve been buried to grow, for your promise is loyal from seed to sequoia.

Even now I realize that the verse my parents gave me on the day of my baptism, seventeen years ago, a verse I often pray for myself and those around me, is about growing, “in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18).

No wonder this year was an incline year—I was climbing, or better put, I was growing. I was stretching up, taller and stronger, with roots that were deep and wide reaching from the level ground of the year before.

This past year was indeed the year of change, because it was a year for vibrant growth. Fitting then, that Braedan and I have themed our wedding in July around storybooks and gardens, and that we chose a verse about pushing each other closer to the heart of God, and further into obedience—further into growth in knowledge and grace.

Hebrews 10:24 says this,

“Let us motivate one another to love and good works.”

If this past year has taught me anything, it is that in the garden of life, we do not grow alone. We grow together. I read recently that trees communicate with one another, and their roots are often connected, a complex web of underground information, passed between trees from where their roots entwine. I am blessed to have my roots mixed up with those of some truly incredible people.

When I was sick from my medications, when I was discouraged, when I was worried, when I was excited this past year—my people reached out to me, and held me up, and curled around me, and protected me, and celebrated with me as I grew. As we each grew.

If growing in the grace and knowledge of Jesus is the only thing I do with my time on earth, I think that will be enough, because as with all growing things, as I mature, I will evidence that by bearing fruit. I even think there’s a verse or two in scripture to support that ;D !

And so, my prayer for this coming year, the year that I am twenty-five, the year I change my last name, change towns, graduate, and just generally continue to insistently bloom in the midst of the mess, is this:

Jesus, as I walk forward with you into my next quarter century of life, have Your way in me. May I walk humbly with You, and may the growth You have nurtured in me show in the everyday way I live in obedience to You. May I love fiercely and with joy. May I be a peace-maker. May I be full of patience in the midst of trial. May I be kinder than expected. May I be full of goodness and faithfulness. May I be gentle, and demonstrate self-control. May I be measured, and wise and full of tender justice. As ever, Yahweh, may I grow in grace, and in the knowledge of You. And may I ever cling to you, as do the little arbutus trees to the cliffside on the furthest reaches of my country’s western coast—a little weathered and bent by the storms, yet strong, and steadfast, rooted in bedrock.

Amen.

Love,

Kelsey

6th March 2018, 6:13 PM