#I think I started writing it in… December or something? perhaps??

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

rain, blood, rivulets, runner, daughter, home, you

Regardless, Wilbur likes to come here a lot. It’s a pretty place, a few minutes walk from Pogtopia; it’s right in the wilderness, no buildings or houses or people around. Just grass, and dirt, and a few tiny flowers, and a lot of trees, and a big blue sky. Well, sometimes blue. Sometimes it’s kinda grey, and cloudy, and other times it cries small cold raindrops that splat into your eyes and make your clothes all damp and uncomfortable.

Wilbur doesn’t care if he gets wet, though. He’ll just come here anyway.

~~~

After several seconds of trying, Wilbur gives up, relaxing once more into this odd state of being. He realizes that his cheek hurts along with his neck, because his face is pressed firmly against this thing. It's probably stopping the blood flow right there.

AND!!!

For a moment, Wilbur's vision goes dark, and it takes several rasping breaths and hard blinks to rid it of black spots. Tommy is bleeding. There's blood on him. His eyes are closed. He's bleeding. He's completely still. He's bleeding. His eyes are closed. He's not moving. There's blood on him. There's blood on Tommy.

~~~

Nothing for rivulets!

~~~

Nothing for runner, either!

~~~

Dang. Nothing for daughter :0

~~~

After a few hours, Niki had stepped back, placed her hands on her hips, and looked around. She quite liked the place, if she was being perfectly honest. It felt cozy, similar to a home. It didn't feel like a company or an enterprise, devoid of emotion. No, it felt real. It felt personal. It felt like hers.

~~~

"You're so dramatic," Phil chokes out, chuckling.

AND!!!

"I'm fine," Wilbur assures, brushing off the hand that Phil didn't even realize had moved towards his son's chest. "I can stand on my own, Phil. You don't have to hold my hand."

~~~

Actually I’m gonna share a whole snippet from a story I genuinely forgot I’d started working on so aksvajdgsksgsh here ya go ⬇️

~~~

"Oh, mate... do you need water?" Phil glances at the table, finding a half-full glass of water just as Wilbur answers, "No."

"Are you hungry?"

Wilbur sighs again. "No. I just- Phil?"

"Yes?" Phil finds himself holding his breath.

Wilbur gazes at him for several seconds, and Phil notes with satisfaction that his eyes are no longer pink. His pupils are the usual rich-brown color that they aught to be.

Wilbur gives a slight shake of his head. "I want to go."

Phil stares. "You- go?"

"I want to get off of this couch. I want to get out of this cabin. I want to go, Phil. I want to-" Wilbur thrusts a hand forward, face twisting. "I want to go far away from this cursed land of snow, and never come back. I want to go outside."

Wilbur ends his rage-filled monologue, staring at his hands laid across his chest. His nostrils flare.

Phil watches him for a moment before dipping his head, beginning to shake with laughter.

Wilbur whips his head around to glare at him. "What?"

"You're so dramatic," Phil chokes out, chuckling.

"Wha- I've been confined in this place for weeks!"

"It's been four days, Wil."

Wilbur's eyes widen. Phil laughs harder.

"Only... only four days?" Wilbur questions, and Phil's laughter starts to subside when he hears how uncertain Wilbur sounds. "It hasn't even been a week? Only four days?"

"Yep." Phil nods. "A fever can really mess with your perception of time, can't it?"

Wilbur nods, at a loss for words. He stares back at his hands.

Phil chews on his lip. "You're feeling better, though. Right?"

"I guess."

Phil reaches forward, resting his palm on Wilbur's head. His son goes very still.

"You don't have a fever anymore. Still a little warm, but you're definitely getting better," Phil says, pulling his hand away. Wilbur relaxes instantly.

Phil feels a stab in his heart.

"Feeling- you said I'm better, right? So I can leave?"

"No."

Wilbur lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine. "But I'm better! You said so yourself, Phil! I'm doing better, see? Look, I can... I can stay at Tommy's, and he can keep on eye on me! Right?"

"No," Phil repeats, a small smile appearing on his face. "I'm not letting you leave until you've made a full recovery, Wilbur."

"But you said-"

"I said you're getting better. I never said that you were better. You still have a ways to go, mate."

Wilbur groans, letting his head fall onto his pillow in dramatic fashion. He squeezes his eyes shut. "I don't think I can survive like this much longer."

Phil chuckles, but his brow furrows with concern. "You're not going to be like this much longer. A week, at most."

"A week?" Wilbur's eyes snap open, and he cranes his head around to stare at Phil. "No. You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

Phil opens and closes his mouth. "I mean... I'm not. You had a really bad infection, mate. You can't just heal from that overnight."

Wilbur stares for a couple seconds longer before laying his head back on his pillow, gazing up at the ceiling. He looks haunted—no. He looks scared.

Phil sighs. "It'll be okay, Wil. You'll get through this. Alright? Just trust me on that. You'll be fine."

Wilbur tries to hide it, but Phil can see how his breathing picks up; how his chest rises and falls with increasing speed; how his nostrils flare; how his eyebrows knit together in quick, barely perceptible movements.

Wilbur's starting to panic. And Phil doesn't know why. It's not like he's being held hostage or anything; he's just on bedrest. Nothing more. He's not trapped. He's not stuck. He's not-

Oh.

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’, (part 1):

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

part two here.

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

────────────

Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

──────────────────

December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

──────────────────

To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

──────────────────

The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

[eli0004]

Okay. So I loved loved loved your relationship HC canons. They were so well written and I loved him❤

But can I also request Levi falling in love HCs? Like I can imagine him being in love but for the love of God I can not imagine how he would fall in love with someone. Like what certain characteristics would he like? Bold? Calm? Sunshine? Introverted? And how will he be attracted to them? Would it be easy for him to accept his feelings or will he be in denial?

Like please please please.... I love the way you write Levi. So please.

-🌼

Absolutely! I love this topic actually, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about! 🖤 I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: How does Levi Ackerman fall in love, and what is his ideal type?

Warnings: None, maybe some talk of insecurity?

Levi is a December Capricorn. December Caps are known for being highly emotional, but struggling with emotional expression. They’re also usually very uptight and disciplined, and tend to take a practical approach when dealing with situations as opposed to flying by the seat of their pants. Obviously these traits are pretty accurate to Levi’s character. A Capricorn’s most ideal match are typically Taurus or Virgos. Commonly known Tausus/Virgo traits are passion, stubbornness, dependability, logic and communication.

Now, obviously you don’t have to be a Taurus or Virgo to be loved by Levi, but think with that in mind, Levi would do best with someone who is very strong willed and independent. He’s not the type of guy who wants to be with someone he has to keep his eye on. Emotional maturity and practical thinking are very important traits to him when looking for a partner, and someone who can communicate well is very attractive to him, since he has a harder time putting his feelings into words.

He likes someone who is genuine, trustworthy and dependable. Someone who has a strong sense of justice and empathy, who defends and advocates for others when they are unable to defend themselves.

I think he likes a good mix of pessimism and optimism. He’s a pessimist himself, so if you’re too optimistic it may irritate him rather than help, he prefers someone who is more of a realist. Someone who doesn’t enable his negativity, but who helps him to think rationally instead.

Like i said before, i think Levi is a deeply emotional person. If you’re only looking surface level, it wouldn’t be obvious, but when you breakdown a lot of his character traits in the show itself, it’s pretty clear that he tends to be swayed by his emotions. I think he would know immediately when he falls in love.

He’s the type of guy who’s always in his head, he thinks a lot, visiting the past, pondering the future. When he starts to catch his pondering turning into fantasizing about a life with you, doing domestic things, and being cozy together, that’s when it hits him.

But I think he’s also deeply insecure, not so much about his looks, but his personality. His ability to love again after having lost so many people. Whether or not you deserve someone better. He’s used to being misread as unapproachable or mean, so somewhere along the way, i think he might have begun to believe those things.

I think it would mean a lot to him if you just treated him like a normal person. Not humanities strongest, not mean or unapproachable, or someone to be pitied for his struggles. Just let him be Levi, and praise him for who he is in his soul.

All that said, i don’t think he would be the one to make a move 💀 because he’s so in his head, i think he’d be too worried that he’s misread the situation and that you don’t see him that way, perhaps you’re just being nice. He’s extremely oblivious to flirting.

But if you catch on first and decide to shoot your shot, he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He’s looking over his shoulder like “do you mean- are you talking to me?” Before that moment, he’s mostly convinced that he’ll be pining in silence for the rest of your lives.

Levi blushes. A lot. He’s very pale in complexion, so the smallest bit of flirting or teasing has heat spreading over his face, and it’s painfully obvious.

So when you’ve got him face to face, telling him how you feel about him, he may not be able to respond in beautiful poetic words, but his body language is enough to tell you how he feels.

He won’t make eye contact, he’s all red faced and bouncing his leg and gripping his teacup with so much force, you’d think it was going to crumble. And oh- what’s that? An ever-so- subtle, happy little grin; completely involuntary, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels boyish and vulnerable, but it’s strangely nice.

Your relationship with Levi is not a secret, but it is private. He values your time together, as it helps him to decompress. He all but melts in your embrace after a particularly hard day, and It’s crucial that you respect his desire for privacy, the level of raw emotion and vulnerability with these new experiences is something that he’s entrusted you with and that means everything to him.

And on the subject of new experiences, the more you handle him with care and allow him to process his feelings without judgment, the less he’ll worry about not being good enough, and you’ll find that he’s a very good and attentive lover.

Even still, you’ll find from time to time that reassurance is something Levi needs like he needs air to breathe, and this can come in the form of many things, like remembering little details about the things he loves, taking care of some of his responsibilities when he’s feeling overwhelmed, quiet touches when he lacks the energy to speak.

Having someone who sees him for who he is and loves all his broken pieces is what Levi finds comfort in while he’s nestled in your arms at night, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[xyurishux]

CHAPTER 1 - AS A WHOLE, TOGETHER

Word Count: ~1.7k

Tags: GN!reader, Mentions of family disputes

Summary: You begin to tell Sebastian how deep UrbanShades rabbit hole truly goes, starting with yourself.

Pardon any writing errors, they may happen!

“ oh sweetie, you’re not ugly, society is,”

“So,

When I was younger, life was as normal as can be. I was in mediocre family, it was me, my mom and my dad. I’d only see my mom in the morning, and when I was back from school my dad would be home for dinner. It wasn’t until way later I learned about his job, but that isn’t relevant right now. My dad was a mystery to me, he’s my dad but I didn’t know much to anything about him. I saw him everyday when I got home but it’s was for such a small period of time, did it even count?

Life was so mundane and repetitive. Go to school, pass tests, summer break then restart it all over again. Life was boring but it wasn’t difficult.

I would do anything to be back there…” You paused looking out into the ocean, it was dark you could mistake it for the above, only simply at night. You breathe out from your nose continuing on with your story.

 “Anyways, it was back in September of 2009 when my father got a promotion. Seeing his face 4 to 5 hours per day dwindled down to seeing him once every two weeks or so, usually on Sundays. He became an enigma.

“You see, something I couldn’t see at the time was that as I grew older, his need to be in my life lowered, and sadly, that same fate fell too with my mother by default.

His job already took a toll on their relationship. Only spending 4 to 5 hours with your partner every day over the span of five years isn’t so great.

My mother would see him as much as I did and now, he just wasn’t there. The signs of a falling relationship presented themselves beforehand, but now it was obvious to anyone that the only thing keeping them together was me. At least, for my mom that was the case.

“The house was more silent than it ever was empty…”

You looked to the side with your eyes to see Sebastians full attention on you, perhaps it was the story? Or maybe he didn’t have anything better to do or it might have been the way your voice spoke with full sincerity and no sarcasm. It was like someone else took control but it was undoubtedly you and he was fully enthralled.

Your eyes met and you looked back down at the cold tile as you carried on.

“Ether way, it was in November of that same year where things would shift. My mom would realize the steady money flowing in and at growing amounts. Now you have to understand that my mother isn’t of the suspicious type nor is she a person who comes up with wild conclusions. She was (and still is, I hope) a reasonable and sensible woman. She knew that this wasn’t a simple ‘promotion’, but to know where all this money came from, well…she didn’t have the slightest clue. She didn’t know and she would never know. Well, truly know…

“The first snow started to fall as December began and Winter break freed me from my studying. Shockingly, dad came home for the holidays and New Years. Funny anecdote, I remember getting my first iPhone as a gift from him that year. It was an iPhone 3GS, God the memories…my mother was not pleased in slightest.” You laughed silent tilting your head to the side as your reminisced, it was good and loyal phone…

 “Continuing on, after Christmas as a family and with the family the next day, my parents had the only disagreement I’ve ever witnessed (only a disagreement, it wasn’t enough to count as a fight).

I think it was about 2 am and the only light that was on was the one above the kitchen table. My dad was sitting facing my mother who standing up, the last of the family who came over for the party had finally left. Chip bowls and wine glasses were still scattered on the coffee table, only barely visible by the outside Christmas lights. I watched as my mom tapped her nails against the wooden chair she was partly leaning on as she took a deep breath. I could tell she was tired, exhausted even but I could also tell she had something bugging her and she needed to let it out. I watched them from the darkness that the staircase provided, I was undetectable. I listened to them talk, leaning my upper body to the wooden railing trying not to miss a single word. I don’t remember much; it was about the money at first but it was nothing compared to what my mother said next.”

“Samantha, look- “

“I’m breaking up with you”

“My mother broke up with my father. I sat upon the steps dumbfounded, I didn’t expect that from their conversation but even then, I didn’t know what to expect. The last of the conversation consisted of my father staying silent and staring at the table as my mom talked important matters to him. She told him that she would stay for the New Years and then move in with a friend in an apartment she found. After that she finished the glass of wine my dad poured for her at the start and left the kitchen when he didn’t have anything to add.

I’m pretty sure that night was the only time I saw my dad cry. He was still in love with her, never ever once thinking of ending their relationship. Never ever once thinking of loving another woman.

 Most children would walk down the stairs they sat on and go comfort their weeping father or at least ask if he was okay. But our relationship was so estranged to the point where I felt no reason to go down and comfort him. He simply was just my father, nothing else nothing more.

I watched him cry silently with his head in his hand as I sat on the steps with my legs close to my chest. I sat there for a few more minutes. I don’t know why I sat there watching for so long. Maybe I was intrigued with the sight, it was something new. A man I’ve know all my life was a mystery to me and now the last sight I might ever see of him is him crying his heart out. But soon enough I got tired, I walked back up to my bedroom and fell asleep to noise of the on going shower my mom was taking downstairs.

The next morning felt cold and unbalanced. The floor was cold to the touch and it was actually closer to noon then morning. The hall was silent as I walked down it and saw at the end of it that my mom was packing a suitcase and a large duffle bag. They were both placed on the bed with an equal amount of folded and unfolded clothes thrown around the two. It was enough to be unable to see the white and blue floral comforter underneath (or I remember it to be enough). I walked into the room and as if I didn’t witness the scene at the kitchen table last night I asked, “Are we going somewhere?”

She was so concentrated with her packing that she jumped startled when she heard my voice. With her hand over her heart, she turned to me with a forced smile (I knew that it was) and spoke words that I will never forget.”

“What were they?” Sebastian asked quietly, his full upper body now laying against the desk where you two sorted files on together almost an hour ago.

You smiled, “Well,

“Sweetheart! You scared me there,” She said, her smile faltering, “No, mommy is going somewhere, alone, but not forever. You’ll have to stay with dad for awhile.” She turned her head away as she folded a few pants and placed them into her suitcase. Then she squatted, and I had to look down to see her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and her lashes wet. I felt her hands on my upper arms as she continued to talk, “Mommy, mommy needs to go find herself for a bit, okay? Not for long but mommy needs this…I love you, eternally and always”

She left the same day with kiss on the forehead, her phone number seared into my mind and a “Be good while I’m gone, I’m a single phone call away”

And then I was there, at my door step, cold and watching as my mom entered her friend’s car with one last kiss blown to me. I caught it and placed it onto my cheek as she drove off. Now it was me and my estranged father and a lot of complex emotions I didn’t know how to decipher or begin to understand at the age of ten.”

You finished, pausing to take a breath for a second while also stretching your aching muscles.

“And then what? What does this have to do with us? With me?” Sebastian asked harshly as he raised himself from the desk.

“Give me a second, I need water and a snack, I’m a bit peckish,” you joked, smirking to him, before continuing, “Ether way, we’re barely getting into the meat of the story. I was just explaining how I got stuck with my father. Now will be getting into what he was doing

behind closed doors…”

And we start rolling, ~

@splatting-stampede

[kanmom51]

Rebirth - Muse - JM

[**This post was written before the release of today's BTB and the little explanation JM gave us about Rebirth and Slow dance. What can I say other than just how much more my words feel relevant now. ]

As promised.

Thought I'd sneak this one in before Are you sure? lands, cause Idk, I just have this feeling that once it does we are up for 1 of two options:

I'm so overwhelmed by the amount of content we are getting that I'll be so dumbfounded and unable to post at all; Or, I will be so busy ruffling through everything running after my own tail trying to post post post post, that I will have zero time or ability to post this.

Long story short, this was the time. Do or die pretty much.

So Intro: Rebirth.

Before I get into the lyrics themselves I do want to go back to what we learnt from the Minimoni album exchange.

I kind of feel like a broken record here, but then again, I do think that obviously watching that exchange and my post on it can be a good starting point into understanding not only what Muse is all about, but also that out of all the songs on the album, Rebirth, in a sense, is just a little more personal than the others.

JM talks how the lyrics for this one were really hard to write. He mentions this a couple of times.

This was also when JM talked it was hard to write about having a crush.

Before moving on and talking about the song itself I do want to clarify something here.

I was really surprised to see how people are interpreting this.

Do people not know what the meaning of the word crush is? Not only the actual term JM used in Korean (that perhaps got lost in translation), but the actual meaning of the word in English.

짝사랑 - this is the term JM used while talking to RM.

Which basically translates as unrequited or one sided love, which is just that if you understand the actual term of the word.

Go to Oxford dictionary and crush is described as: "a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable." And if you look up "infatuation" well: "an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something."

Now, when I heard the word crush that is exactly what I understood and it was funny for me to see that there were those that interpret the word as falling in love or being in love or similar to that, when crush means something else all together.

*Side note: JM's love life aside, knowing the concept of JM's album, it's easy to understand why he chose to use the idea of a crush as a metaphor to describe that short lived passion/excitement he was feeling with his work, telling us or showing us, with the development of the songs in the album, that indeed it is short lived and he was yet to find that long lasting feeling of excitement with the things he was doing (work/his art) - still searching for that "who".

Back to the meaning of crush.

As explained, a crush in English means an intense infatuation with another that is mostly unattainable. Two people can crush on each other, but it's a crush only as long as it is yet to be requited. Once it is reciprocated then it's no longer a crush. So, you can crush on someone unknowing that the other person has a crush on you. This crush can fizzle out and end in nothingness. But a crush evolve into a relationship if the two people involved move forward from it. Making that move forward towards each other.

This is what having a crush looks like:

And this is how it looks when you had a crush and are realizing that maybe, just maybe that person is reciprocating.

And this is when you have decided that he really is.

That was back in 2015 btw. August 2015 and December 2015. ALMOST 9 YEARS AGO.

Unattainable.

Short-lived.

Are we surprised JM wouldn't remember the last time he had a crush?

I will repeat this for the rows in the back that might not have heard. When JM says he doesn't remember the last time he had a crush, that doesn't mean he's single. Whoever thinks that is what he's saying needs a crash course in English and/or life.

A crash course in crush... lmao (yes, I am easily entertained).

So, JM had to turn to the youngest member of SGMB (lol) to remind him what it feels like to have a crush. And yet, as I have explained in the Minimoni post, Muse might not be autobiographical, but that doesn't mean that there aren't personal aspects to some of the songs, and the lyrics. Feelings expressed being real feelings drawn from his trove of inner thoughts, feelings and life and love experiences.

I will also add that although crushing is mostly one sided, and when it turns into more, as in the other party reciprocates, of course there are some of the feelings that linger. The rush, the want, the need. But at the same time things change in that the other side is feeling the same. When you look at them, they look back, gazes linger rather than avoiding eye contact, for example. There are the touches when crushing, and there are the touches, just as hesitant, after it becoming MORE. The first are one sided and usually hidden as something else (for example: "I just need to check your arm muscles for a sec"), while the second are two sided, intentional but at times hidden from others.

The differences might be so very slight at times, but if you have a keen eye you can definitley notice them. And they sure were noticeable when it came to Jikook.

Another thing before I start.

One word:

SERENDIPITY

Idk why, but I feel like Rebirth is a prequel to Serendipity. Even though Serendipity was not written by JM (although I do believe he had input into the song just like or even more so with John Billion - remember how JM says he's an American RM...), it most certainly was claimed by him and JK as theirs. You are me I am you being their trademarked catch phrase. A love ode from JM to JK. That song JM said he will gift his loved one and did. Followed by GCFT, JK's love ode to JM. And if I'm going down that road, well, if Rebirth is the prequel to Serendipity I'd say that Letter is the sequel to Serendipity. I kind of think I've mentioned this before in one of my posts about Letter.

Now that I'm done with my precursor, let's move on to the actual song. A song that out of the lot of them in this album seems to be the most personal. The only song that we didn't get to see the process of writing or recording of in content we have gotten so far for Muse (promotions now over).

[Verse] If I'm tryna be special Can I get closer to you? I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me If I'm tryna be special So that I can sing while making eye contact with you I'll show you, baby Oh, I didn't realize Oh, I didn't think I'd care Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness Like the sunshine vibe It spreads quietly [Chorus] That I want a real good love, good love, good love I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love I was in pitch black, but I couldn't stop thinking of you all day long I want to take one step and two steps closer without you knowing Stay with you, with you, with you, with you I will be your reason, rеason, reason, reason I hope this feeling rеaches you, to you, you To you [Outro] White clouds The wind passing by Floating petals It feels like it's been waiting just for us When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you) I wanna be with you

I will share with you what went through my mind once listening to Rebirth, all while reading parts of the translated lyrics. The flashing scenes. Parts that screamed JK or Jikook.

"I can feel my heart pounding When your fingertips graze past me"

This:

And this:

And this:

And this:

More:

I can go on with this all day long. Being one of the most obvious sus behaviours with these two. But seeing that I don't want to exceed my image limit in this post I think this is where I will stop. Point made I guess.

"So that I can sing while making eye contact with you"

This was the first thing that came to mind:

😭😭

Although these did too:

And do we recall JK's sentiments about making eye contact with JM on stage?

They connect on stage. Before, during and at the end of the performance. We have seen it and they have told us so throughout the years.

Was that what JM was thinking of while writing that line?

This is clearly a line that is taken from his own personal experience. Singing while making eye contact is not something that regular people like you or I would come up with to express a feeling of love or want towards someone.

Drawing from his own emotions and experiences, how it is for him and how he might have used to wish it would be.

This line, more than any other is clearly that.

"Oh my gosh, now I Won't hide You are the light in my darkness" and "Like the sunshine vibe"

The latter, as JM explained to RM, was a word game/pun for which he asked permission from Taeyang to use in his song, seeing that his name literally means sun and Vibe was his song, lol.

But, we also know there is someone else, much closer to home, much closer period, that is referred to as the sun. Someone that makes JM happy. Someone that makes JM laugh even when he's sad. Someone that JM chose to go into the army with, together!!! Someone that is the other half of the sun and moon duo, the sun to JM's moon.

And what about this?

I'm tryna find a love, good love, real love

And he found it.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

"When that door opens When I get closer to you I'll tell you this I will be special all for you Special just for you For you (For you) For you (For you)

And he is. JM is special for JK. He has told and showed us this in so many ways in the past.

"I wanna be with you"

I wanna be with you...

Again, JM told us the songs aren't about his life, right? And yet, that doesn't mean they don't have a personal connection, that while writing he didn't take from his own experiences or feelings, that after writing he feels an emotional connection with the song, that even if not intended to it hits closer to home than others. And I feel like this is the case with Rebirth. I do believe that there is a reason it is the connecting song between Face and Muse. That there is a reason the interlude separates it from the rest of the songs.

[cheeseceli]

Christmas

Pairing: Ot8 stray kids × Gn!Reader (individual)

Genre: fluff scenarios

Description: activities Stray Kids would like to have with you on Christmas day

Warnings: I repeat the word "Christmas" way too much, mention of food at Chan and Felix's

A/n: I don't like this but I really wanted to write something for Christmas so here it is. Next year will be better

Bang Chan - dinner

Just sitting with you in a table full of the most delicious foods he could ever think of feels like a dream. He also gets to talk to you about everything and anything all at once, reminding each other about the whole year. He realises this year was particularly good, especially with you in it. So he soon starts to talk about his plans for the future, the one he hopes he can share with you too. He has a guess that the next year will be pretty good

Lee Know - snow

It doesn't matter if it snows a lot of other days besides Christmas, you both will be out in the streets when it's 25th of December. And if it snows right at its night, you can bet that he'll be running to get out of the house asap. For a second it feels like you both are the only ones in the world and the sky had decided to snow exclusively to create this moment. Just making a snowman, creating a snow fight or even just seeing the snowflakes fall from above might be one of the prettiest moments in Minho's life. But he doesn't think it's all because of the weather.

Changbin - gift giving

He knows Christmas is way more than just gifts, but he'd be lying if he said that he didn't like to gift people. Especially gifting you. He loves your reaction the most. He likes how excited you get, how you try to guess what the present is and your smile when you open the box. The happiness and gratitude in your eyes is the biggest gift he could ever receive.

Hyunjin - exploring the city

He'd take you to the best places in town, the prettiest ones, so the magic of this date could feel more visible. Having Christmas lights all over the place, those huge Christmas trees and perhaps even fireworks seems like a day he'd remember. But hopefully you remember the places you visited more than him so you can tell him how it was later, because he was too focused at looking at how your eyes shone to pay attention to any firework in the sky

Han - Movies

Watching movies in your shared bed with matching pajamas from the Christmas eve till the actual Christmas. It seems perfect to him. Some might think it's basic or not memorable at all, especially for a first time spending the holiday together, but he disagrees. He loves how simple it is. Just the two of you loving each other in silence and enjoying each others company seems great. You might even fall asleep hugging one another, but that just makes it more magical in his opinion.

Felix - baking

Not cliche if it's true. This man just LOVES baking with you. Cinnamon biscuits, pies, brownies or whatever to be honest. What exactly you are baking doesn't matter so much. He just loves to be there in the kitchen with you: flour all over the place and a smile in both of your lips. The fact that it's Christmas, such an important holiday, and you chose to spend it with him just makes it more cheerful.

Seungmin - Christmas tree

Decorating the tree would be so fun next to Seungmin. You both together would have the smartest of ideas on how to design the tree this year. It would look genuinely pretty. And just trying to figure where to put each decoration and the beautiful result would be so domestic but also exclusive to him. He thinks he doesn't ever want to decorate another Christmas tree if you are not by his side

I.N - karaoke

You both would be singing Mariah Carey till 2 AM, I just know it. Jokes aside I think he would genuinely like to have a small karaoke night, Christmas themed. And even before/after that night he would probably be hugging you from behind and singing a sweet melody in your ear, which you'd later realise to be a Christmas song. It feels a little bit like a movie, one that he likes very much.

Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[9w1ft]

I always interpreted evermore as a song about depression, I never linked it to Kaylor, can you tell me your view on this song?

dang i had a conversation about this with someone several months ago but i can’t find it. ill give you the abridged version. firstly, i think it can be about both! because the situation got depressing there for a hot minute!!

taylor said in an interview with zane lowe for apple music that she had written the song when the election was upon us and she didn't know what was going to happen. evermore the album was released in december 2020, which suggests that she wrote it pretty close to the release date, but also had time to reflect on what she knew to be true before releasing it— that trump wouldn’t win reelection. there’s a billboard article where she talks about the moment she learned biden won and i think it meshes really well with how evermore concludes thematically and emotionally.

when we think about the impact that trump being elected had on kaylor back in 2016–throwing a birthday party for lorde only days before the 2016 general election and wearing the vsfs angel wing ring in public for the first time, and that picture of them both kissing lorde on the cheek, going from that to at once enacting a love blackout and never being seen regularly in public again (the next time being rep tour 2018)— and on top of that, them going out of their way to separate themselves in the media via the creation of a “feud” during 2017 (swish swish, sushigate, etcetera) which pitted karlie with katy perry and kanye and cast her as someone for swifties to hate, guilty by association, we can imagine the weight and sadness of this chapter in their story. this is the start of the pain. this choice (i consider it a choice), to take the battle underground, sunk kaylor little by little into the world of the improbable for any casual observer. and it also put somewhat of a hex on karlie indefinitely, and for as brave of a soldier as she is, its an awful long while to be put in jail for something you didn’t do.

with these details as the background, i consider evermore to be a song chiefly about 2019 onward, though you might also position some of the date markers in the song within a sort of 2016/2017 focused timeframe. personally though i tend to think that 2019 events work just as well and operate under similar themes. for example, “hey november i’ve been down since july” could be in reference to the period of time where it became slowly more clear that the 2016 election results might not be a non-starter. or, it could reference the day after the masters sale (which was end of june 2019) and the theorized “failed coming out” that many expected her to do at the new york city pride parade that week. this followed by november, the conclusion of editing Miss Americana which would be released the following month (“motion capture put me in a bad light”) or alternatively november 2020, the point at which she is writing this song. there’s also an lsk theory that taylor and karlie were broken up from july to november 2019 but im not so versed in that so i’ll just keep it to a mention.

in any case, “hey december” can circle back to miss americana being released, not as a coming out documentary but as a “political coming out” documentary. hence the “can’t remember what i used to fight for.”

or it could be both, in a way. for example rewinding the tape but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost could be both the rewinding of the miss americana documentary released in 2019, and/or perhaps conceptually the idea of the 2016 election night footage being rewound by everyone in the disbelief that occured the night that “all was lost”

because all was lost that night, in a way, no?

i tend to see justin vernon’s part as being a depiction of karlie after kaylor was exiled to a new level post the masters sale. i don’t mean this to say they were broken up. it’s just that they had to do a factory reset on a lot of the progress that had been made up until that point, and they would not be seen together (in order to accomplish some vigilante shit, is what i think anyway). back to justin vernon’s lines. it just reminded me deeply of all the hate karlie got that summer. and indeed, all the hate she had accrued until then. whether summer or winter, this feuding arc had put karlie in a position that i would argue was growing unbearable and incessant. “out on waves im being tossed, is there a line that i could just go cross?” referring to the latest wave of said hate. in this scenario, “can’t not think of all the cost and the things that would be lost oh can’t we just get a pause to be certain we’ll be tall again?” seems like karlie calling out to taylor, amidst the haze and confusion of the masters sale, think about everything that we would be giving up if you don’t come out right now. (think of me.). and then upon that line leading nowhere saying hey let’s pause before we hurt each other, to be certain we will make it through. here “tall again” reminds me of paper rings “standing here so tall”

so what of the ending? well, as a time marker i would once again refer to when the song was released, post-2020 election, where taylor saw that trump had lost and they would have a path forward. …covid-19 was yet to happen of course, and with that i think there were life priority shifts, but i just see evermore as a song that covers taylor and karlie seeing a light at the end of the tunnel that had been their love lockdown to love blackout to exile story. its a song that encompasses so much hope and i just really really really love it as a kaylor song because of the specificity with which you can tie it to their story, specifically a more contemporary chapter, the likes of which we hadn’t had too many songs depicting up until that point (basically just peace/hoax/the lakes).

so yeah that’s why it’s a kaylor song to me 🫶

[mercurygray]

how to get home, for Cord? 💙

The days feel longer here.

It feels strange to say that, as they move into December and the dark descends before the sun's even had a chance to get her coat on, but wars don't run on business hours, and everyone can pull out their desk lamps and continue calculations well into the wee hours of the evening if that's what conditions demand. And the war demands a lot, always.

The new men coming in think that this is just the way that Thorpe Abbotts has always been - that the ops officers are seldom in the officers club, that that ground crew don't know your name. No one bothers to correct the impression, except perhaps Rosie Rosenthal, who even Colonel Harding will agree is in a class by himself.

Everyone is different after Munster, and none of the old hands want to correct assumptions. Harry Crosby is a loner, Ev Blakely tells fewer jokes, and Cordelia Callaway is an ice queen who's married to her job and never smiles.

Let 'em, Cord thinks to herself, finishing the last touches on the week's accident reports and watching out of the corner of her eye as a few new WACs go by, whispering. Why should it matter? She stands up and stretches, concious, as she has not been for a while, of the tension in her shoulders and the twinge in her jaw.

"Lieutenant Callaway, do you have a minute?" Cord looks up to see Fred Torvaldsen standing in the doorway, her homemade red scarf vivid against the blue of her Red Cross uniform and the gray outside. "I've got - something for you."

It's an odd request - Cord doesn't know the woman over and above a few cups of coffee, a good singing voice, and a heart for stray cats. (Anita spent a whole day talking about spark plugs before it was explained that she meant the Aero Club's new kitten.) A mittened hand holds something out - a letter. "It came to me, but it's - it's for you," Fred explains. "I think they wanted to - get it around the censor. I hope you don't mind I opened it."

The poor-quality paper is crumpled, the handwriting messy and rushed. There's only one person who writes like that. Cord finds herself leaning against the wall. (Fred, she notices, hasn't moved. How many letters like this has she delivered?)

Dear Cord,

I don't know what to say except I'm sorry.

And that's it. That's all there is. Ten words that hit her like a ton of bricks. Sorry, Bucky? You're sorry? What does that even - sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry you're not here? Sorry you're alive and you didn't think it would be important to tell me? Sorry?

It is so maddeningly and frustratingly him that she can hardly think - the wall is holding her up and she wishes it were him. You're a thousand miles away and you're right here in this paper, and I miss you so much, Bucky, your shoulders and your smile and the way you make me laugh…

The words have been struck through, heavily, with a pencil, and as she reads them a fifth and sixth time, she can almost see him, hunched over a table in a chair that is too small for him, struggling with the words and then deciding they're not worth the paper they're written on, striking them out and throwing down the pencil and crumpling up the page. Underneath there are a few more lines, added in a script she knows is Gale's -

Sorry you haven't heard from him sooner. He's started this letter five times and I thought you ought to at least get one.

I think if he missed you less, he'd be able to talk about it more. He hasn't said your name since we got here.

We're all doing okay, and hope you are, too. Say hi to everyone for us. Gale.

That, too, is a new wave of tears - classic Gale. At least he knows how to get home. She hopes for a tearful moment that Marjorie Spencer has gotten the letters that she knows Gale has written like clockwork in his fine, neat hand. And she has ten words. Ten words, struck out for being written, and her name, and 'Dear', and all of that somehow not good enough to actually send. John Egan, if you were here I don't know what I'd do to you. Kiss you, kill you, or never let go of you.

She looks up, wipes her eyes on the back of her hand, and realizes Fred is still standing there, smiling faintly, a handkerchief in her hand. Cord sniffles and takes it, grateful. "There's paper at the club, when you want to write him back."

"No if?" Cord asks, blowing her nose and trying to find the ice queen again behind the hot tears on her cheek.

"No one I know cries like that over ifs," Fred replied with a little smile. "Mary's baking shortbread later. We'll save you some."

Later that night, when she has been installed in a comfortable chair with a cup of tea and three of the promised cookies, she finds herself staring at the paper feeling blank. "Well, what would you say if he were here right now?" Mary asks, sitting down with her own cup of tea and gesturing to an empty chair like it will somehow conjure the man.

Cord stares at the empty chair, and then writes down the only words she can think of, picturing him.

You stupid, stupid, stupid man.

The only apology I want is for not writing sooner - and for thinking that I wouldn't want a letter. What kind of woman do you think I am? Jack Kidd was kind enough to give me your jacket - the one I said I hated. It's in my room now. I'll return it to you when you get back - or not. The weather's been getting colder and a girl might need it…

[wubbowrites]

signs

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Relationship: Sonic/Shadow

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Minor swearing (in sign language)

AO3 Link

Sonic discovers that Shadow was taught sign language during his time on the ARK.

Written for Sonadow Week hosted by @starlightzonee on Twitter. Uses the prompt, “Silence”.

(A/N: This was originally posted in December 2021 for a Sonadow week I found on Twitter! I remembered that back then, someone had posted a rec of it on Tumblr that got some notes, so I decided I’d cross post it myself if people here liked it ^_^ Not sure how many other older fics I’ll post here, we’ll see how I feel)

(ALSO the method of writing the sign language here is describing the hand motions. Translations of them are at the end of the fic)

As Shadow complained about his last mission with Rouge, Sonic noticed his hand motions.

It was unusual for Shadow to be so expressive when he spoke…At least, Sonic thought it was. It was only recently that the two became close enough to have casual conversations like this. Sonic wondered: Did he always move his hands this much when he talked with Rouge and Omega, for example? Did he only do it when he was frustrated like this, or did he do it during other heightened emotions too? Why did the motions seem so…specific? Practiced?

It suddenly clicked.

“Shadow?”

Shadow bristled at being interrupted. “What?”

“Do you…know sign language?”

He blinked. “Where did that come from?”

“You’ve been moving your hands around this whole time! I thought it was- Wait, did you not even notice?” Sonic asked.

Shadow looked down at his hands. He shook them a bit, pointedly avoiding eye contact all of a sudden. “I…suppose I didn’t. Yes, I know some sign language.”

This caught Sonic off guard. “Huh! When did you pick that up?”

“I learned it on the ARK.” He paused, waiting for a sign that he could leave it at that. When Sonic kept watching with expectant eyes, Shadow tensed some more and pressed on. “At times, when testing got particularly stressful, Maria would have nonverbal moments. She found it easier to communicate in these moments with sign language rather than writing or typing, so some of the scientists learned it to communicate with her better. Then when I was created, they taught it to me as well. Signing while speaking was an easy way to practice…but it seems the habit didn’t go away,” Shadow said.

Sonic grinned. “Teach me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Teach me some! Teach me some sign language! Even just a couple words, c’mon!”

“Why do you want this so badly all of a sudden? None of your friends know any, do they?”

“Our friends, you mean,” Sonic said. Shadow rolled his eyes. “And, well, no, they don’t. But like, it’d still be useful! Every once in awhile, I end up saving someone that can’t hear or can’t speak. Doesn’t happen too often, and I think I’ve done an okay job finding ways to communicate with ‘em, but it’d sure be easier if I knew some basics! Besides, it could be like a secret code if we’re around people that don’t know it!”

Shadow sighed. “Alright. The first answer I understand. But what use would we have for a secret code? There’s nothing I would have to say to you that I can’t just say aloud.”

“I dunno! Maybe for stealth missions?”

“Please. Your hopeless with stealth. A secret code isn’t nearly enough to save you.”

Sonic glared as Shadow huffed out a laugh. “Whatever! Maybe I do have secret things I would tell you! You’ll never know until we do it.”

Shadow sighed. He thought for a moment. Then, he decided: “Alright. I’ll teach you some. But for the record, your weak attempt at piquing my curiosity did not affect my decision.”

“Alright!” Sonic exclaimed as he pumped his fist in the air. “So…How do we do this?”

“Well…Perhaps the alphabet would be a good place to start.”

—

Slowly, over time, the other mobians began to notice the hand motions Sonic and Shadow would point at each other. It wasn’t often enough to be obvious. It was just something they did every so often. There were indeed a few times they would be battling Eggman together and would send each other a sign that the villain didn’t understand. Or they would happen across each other, and Sonic would smirk and swipe his finger under his nose. Shadow would reply back with a scowl, and he’d curl his index finger and thumb into a circle. Then Sonic would laugh and they’d go about their days and Tails and Rouge would be at their sides wondering what in the world was going on.

Frankly, though, a lot of Sonic and Shadow’s friends were pleased by the development, if only because it cut down on the loud arguing and boasting the two would get into.

—

On a clear, cool evening, Amy hosted a barbecue. Teams Sonic and Rose were invited, along with Rouge, who dragged her two boys with her. Everyone scattered throughout Amy’s yard. Amy herself stood at the grill with Knuckles, the two making food together. Shadow and Rouge sat at one picnic table just chatting amongst themselves, Omega standing beside them. Sonic and Tails sat at a second table a few feet away. Sonic watched over Tails’s shoulder as he played a game on his handheld console. Cream and Big had a blanket laid out that they shared, along with Cheese and Froggy of course. Everyone was relaxing in their own ways. It was already a lovely time.

Big couldn’t help but notice it when Sonic began to steal glances at Shadow. Big wasn’t always the most observant, but he was quiet. And being the fisherman he was, he could be very focused when he wanted to. For some reason, that focus fell on Sonic. The blue blur’s hands fidgeted as he tried to silently get the other hedgehog’s attention. Shadow was too distracted by one of Rouge’s stories to turn his head.

Eventually though, Shadow noticed. He stared at Sonic with a cocked eyebrow.

Sonic grinned back. He pointed to Shadow. He brushed his index and middle fingers down against his chin. Shadow kept staring as if expecting Sonic to take it back. After a second, Sonic chuckled and did it again.

Big had never seen Shadow blush before that moment. It was only the tiniest bit. He gave Sonic the middle finger and quickly turned away. He hid it as fast as he could. Nobody else seemed to have been watching anyway. But Big saw.

“Aw.”

Cream looked up at him. “What is it, Mr. Big?”

“Sonic and Shadow are really sweet.”

“Hm?” Cream looked up. The two were back to what they were doing before, not even facing each other. “What were they doing?”

“Sonic just gave him a nice compliment. But I don’t think anyone else knew it.“

Cream smiled. “Oh! That makes sense! Mr. Sonic is very kind! But…” She scratched her chin, suddenly rethinking. “I thought they didn’t like each other as much.”

“They must have made up,” Big said cheerfully. “That’s nice.”

“I guess so!” Cream nodded. “I’m glad we can all be good friends then!”

“Mhm.”

Froggy croaked and began hopping away. Big watched him go down the yard. He slowly rocked onto his feet and followed close behind. And with him suddenly leaving, so too did the secret message between Sonic and Shadow.

—

Translations of the ASL. I did my best to research these, but please let me know if something isn’t right! I’ll happily edit in corrections ^_^

“Sonic would smirk and swipe his finger under his nose” = fake, meant to invoke “faker”

“he’d curl his index finger and thumb into a circle” = asshole

“He pointed to Shadow. He brushed his index and middle fingers down against his chin.” = you’re cute

[bamdelune]

In Hindsight 📹 Ch. 22: "and i'd go back to december all the time"

note. not sure if it was something else that caused it but i kind of teared up while writing this HELP

warning. long narration! angst, hurt/comfort elements, small descriptions of death, crying, tiny bit of fluff.

If you asked the average person how they would feel on their final month alive, perhaps they would feel as if panic started to claw at their throat. Maybe they'd have an existential crisis right then and there. But for you, an eerie calm had begun to manifest. Like this moment was the eye of the storm, a disaster waiting to happen.

Ever the anxious type, you had settled almost all of the things that needed to be settled once you passed. Living wills, finances, relationships; including your album as well. Your production was coming to a close. You had a rather tearful conversation with your music and publicity team a few months ago after the music video shoot. You weren't sure if the eeriness you were experiencing was from facing death or the outcome of post-album release. You surely weren't getting any healthier but you still held on to the hope of the doctors magically finding a way to cure your condition. Back to the point, settling almost everything and anything permitted you a lot of free time to spend on your hands.

One year ago today, you met Kunikuzushi. A fresh intern at your regular hospital, you could almost laugh at how icy his demeanor was at the time, but you decide against it when you remember that you were spending time with the man himself.

"What are you laughing at?" Kuni asks, a suspicious look on his face.

"You."

Kuni scrunches his nose at that, "What did I do?"

A soft chuckle resounds from you, adjusting the positon of your head on Kunikuzushi's lap. The both of you drove to a peaceful area. Not too far from the city, but quiet enough to enjoy an intimate moment shared with each other. The stars scattered on the blanket of the night sky, like how freckles beautifully decorate a person's face. The stars reflected on the deep pools of his eyes, you knew Kuni was pretty but this was different. Maybe something was in the air tonight that made him more ethereal somehow.

"Remember the first time we met?" You look up at him, intertwining your fingers with his own.

He hums, "Yeah. I was freaking out."

"Really? You looked scary to me. Why were you freaking out?"

"A celebrity was right in front of me and I ate something with spinach right before that, I probably had something in my teeth." His lips form a straight line at the thought. "You know how my teeth get."

"Now that I think about it, maybe you did have something in your teeth." You tease, amused at how Kuni's eyes widen.

"Are you serious?"

"No."

Kuni takes this chance to pinch your side, to which you respond with a shriek.

"Ow! What the fuck." Your lips contort into a small pout, eyebrows furrowing at what he just did.

A few moments of silence pass. That's what was staple in your relationship with Kunikuzushi. Silence. Pure, comfortable silence. When it was just the two of you, you didn't really need to say many words just to spend time together. More often than not, Kuni would drive you to quiet places like just to sit in each other's presence. Sure, he didn't mind talking but silence just tells something more to him. You thought about how silence tells that there's mutual trust and comfort in each other.

"Do you ever regret... getting assigned to me?" You ask hesitantly. You don't look up at him to gauge his reaction, or rather you didn't want to see it.

He stays silent before speaking, "No." His fingers coming through the locks of your hair. "I do regret that we never really had or have, for that matter, much time after we graduated to actually, you know.." Kuni answers, trailing off.

Your heart twisted a little at that.

You'd call yourself a fraud, a liar if you said that you've never imagined a life without your illness once or twice, more than that, to be more accurate. Maybe you would've won something from some major award show, maybe you would see Xinyan debut into a spectacular idol singer, maybe you would even do a collaboration together. Or maybe you would've lived long enough to see the twins become lawyers

Perhaps you could've stayed long enough to see a life with Kunikuzushi that wasn't cut short by some cruel trick of time. Time was the enemy, it was you and him against time. There were billions of people in the world, but out of luck, you some how landed in this situation.

What would happen to you after you're gone? What happens to him? What happens to Kunikuzushi?

Kunikuzushi, who's seen your ups and downs. Kuni, who has witnessed your tears and your smiles. Kuni, who dove into this love knowing well enough that it was only a matter of time before you were gone for good. Kunikuzushi, who knew you for a breath of a year but loves you like he's known you a lifetime. He who loves you like tomorrow would never arrive.

Your chest clenches as the thoughts in your mind race, your throat felt constricted and before you knew it, salty tears pool in the corners of your eyes. You try your best to level your breathing, but Kunikuzushi knew you too well.

"Hey, idiot. What's going on?" His tone turning soft and tender. It made you want to tear your hair out, how could the universe give you this kind of guy but give you so little time?

The pads of his fingers gently wipe the streams on your face. Everything about him was so soft right now. His voice, his expression, his touch. It was absolutely not helping. For the first time ever, you feared death. How dark it would be without anyone. No Xinyan, Lumine, Aether. No him to hold your hand as you lay.

You sniffle a little too loudly than you intended and you don't notice that small pained whimpers continuously leave your lips as you cry. You were going to miss him so much, and it hurt to even think about it.

"Fuck, Kuni. I'm scared." You manage to say in between quiet hiccups, wiping at the teardrops on your face in attempt to calm yourself down. Your chest heaves erratically. How do you breathe? Two in, one out? One in, three out, and a gasp?

He sits you up and encases you in a warm embrace. Everything that he was doing just made you want to sob harder. Kuni, despite his supposedly cold demeanor, gave the best and warmest hugs. His arms lock under your own. One arm tightened around your frame while the other rubbed circles on your back. The way it was so simple was the most gut-wrenching thing you could experience.

"Hey, I'm here. You hear me right? I'm still right here, always. I wouldn't ever dream of leaving you alone." He mutters. It wasn't loud, but it was enough for you to hear. Your shoulders shook in his arms as you hiccup and sniffle. Your brain was fuzzy, a flurry of emotions taking place all at once and it was simply too much to process.

He pulls back and cups your face. Kuni's eyebrows furrow for a moment before pressing a comforting peck on your lips. Thereafter, he kisses the lids of your eyes as tears continue to flow.

"I'm—I'm sorry I dragged you into something like this." You whisper hoarsely, your throat closing up.

Kuni's lips form into a straight line, a frown settling on his lips before disagreeing.

"You're stupid, you know that? I'd do all this over again, if it meant that it would get you to stay longer," He pauses before saying "Just don't go anywhere I can't follow."

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as life begins to seep out of your own body? (scaramouche x gn!reader)

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

taglist. (status: open) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee @lazy-sanns @sakurapeach @sheraffim @vxmp-loml @sukunasrealgf @sleepning @yukiipc @thenightsflower @aqvvas @scaramoo @coquettemaiden @dappledstars @pooonyo @certified-simp-4evr @alatus-viator @yuminako @zephestia @mellowberrie (comment/send an ask to be added or removed, please let me know if i forgot to add you since my notification feed can be flooded sometimes!)

masterpost ★ masterlist © bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[usmsgutterson]

I think I might have fallen in love- realization fics! Fics with this prompt can be the realization of anything--a characters imminent death, the moment wherein someone realizes they've been betrayed, or they can be super fluffy and detail the moment a character realizes they're in love, the moment where they realize they can see a future with the reader--perhaps one that entails settling down or one that involves leaving the past behind--, the moment where they realize that they want to marry them! Anything goes with this prompt, and I'll write 1-5k words using it!

OKAY- what about nikolai x reader. and it's where he realizes he wants to marry her. maybe r thinks of a solution to some matter of state and he watches in awe how she handles the questions and gets the other's attention. and he's just like "yep. i'm gonna make her my bride" or something like that :)

Motion- N.L x fem! reader

okay, hi! This came out a bit later than I meant for it to--I decided a few weeks ago to plan out a duology to try to complete during NaNoWriMo and that took up a lot of my headspace, where trying to make sure my mental health was on track and I was breathing in something other than stale apartment air took up the rest of it. However, I am so sorry for how late this is coming out regardless!

On another note, my requests close next friday! They close at 11:30 pm AST (which is around 7:30 PST) and hopefully, what remains of my requests will be done by that point. Fall event requests are open until the second and my holiday event will come out sometime between the 24th of November and the 1st of December.

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

You and Nikolai were sitting in a meeting, debating with the Grisha triumvirate and several other relevant court members who sat in on Ravkas ever growing list of issues. You'd thrummed your way from matters of inter-palace discontent through matters of civilian discontent and you were up to matters of state.

Nikolai was getting bored watching everyone bicker, each of them trying to stop one another from getting a word in, but you looked as though you'd just gotten started. Nikolai could've sworn you were smirking slightly as you watched Zoya snap at a general, ready to throw a gust of wind at him--one so powerful that it knocked him through the meeting room wall--and barely managing to restrain herself. You looked as though, despite the fact that you weren't Grisha, you were ready to do the same thing.

Genya looked ready to tailor someone into a very ugly version of themself and David simply looked as though he wanted to go back to his work, like he was mad at the fact of his obligations as a member of the triumvirate for pulling him away from it.

"And before you start, Novikov," you started. Nikolai turned his attention to you, smile on his face. "Let me talk my way through this, yeah? You start talking and you might find yourself unable to fill your britches because you simply don't know enough. It's not a matter of the people--it's a matter of the funds we're able to allocate to the cities. If we can allocate enough to cities both big and small then we're setting ourselves up for an economic boom that starts at the big cities, moves to the small ones. It moves to the towns, and from the towns it moves back to us."

"How do you expect Ravka of all places to be able to do such a thing?" Novikov asks, bushy eyebrows furrowed at your suggestion.

"We can get tourists in," you said. "Ravka is broke--that is absolutely not a surprise to anyone in this room. However, to appeal to those who can only afford to take one vacation a year we advertise the cities. The ones with good-quality but still cheap hotels, honest working parents and saintstales as old as the country itself."

"And what of the rich folks?" David asked. "I mean--we can't advertise Ravka for tourism without aiming somewhere that will actually make a difference one trip on, can we?"

"Palace tours," you said. "The Grand Palace--we can make it a tourist spot Friday through Monday, twelve hours, with options for individual touring, group touring, or guided versions of the same. I'll be a bloody guide if I need to, but I know that there are people somewhere who are passionate about Ravkas history to be willing to volunteer their time."

'And how long is this going to take to pay off our debts?" Novikov asked. "I mean--nobody will go for it if it takes us longer than a decade."

"If it takes us longer than a decade, the youngest of us in the room have a chance at seeing it in the last year or two before we hit forty," Genya said. "Nikolai is twenty-four at the current, which means it would take sixteen years if it were to be such a strenuous plan."

"It's not," You said. "Tours of the palace will take two hours going at a slow pace if my walks of the Grand Palace are to have proved anything. If we get six volunteers, then that's one to cover every tour everyday. Ticket prices can be set at 20 coin for a general admission, 10 for children and fifteen for seniors. Max the group allowance at groups of ten and that ranges from 100-200 coin just off the gate. Take that and multiply it by six, and we have 600-1200 coin going back into the coffers of those to whom Ravka is indebted. It'll be volunteer based because the saints know we cannot afford to pay the guides but I would do a twelve hour workday just to prove that my idea is the right move."

"And what benefits could we offer in place of wages?"

"A hot meal when shifts are done, a room at the Little Palace and food by an irrefutable line of direction. We could also put them on palace staffing lists officially so they'd at least be making the minimum wage, but I think that such would constitute as fraudulent somewhere."

Nikolai was deep in thought when you brought up that last point, but with one squeeze from your hand he was back to reality.

"If they would be willing to take a room in the Little Palace for the duration of time during which tours take place, then it wouldn't violate any laws--they'd be working within the palaces, allowing their placement onto the palace staff."

"What is your estimate on how long it would take?" Novikov asked. "On how long the combination of marketing the cities and the palace tours would take to pay off our debts and refill the war treasury?"

Nikolai had been looking at you how he always did--like you were the love of his life. As he watched you answer what both of you had hoped tto be Novikovs last question, he came to a realization.

"A minimum of five years," you said. "And that is with the tours going all year round. If we could have the tours going daily it would probably still be the same such estimate--we're more than one million kruge in debt with Kerch, double that with Novyi Zem, Novikov. The process for clearing Ravka of it's debts is not something that will be instantaneous unless you're willing to sell your home and give the funds to the cause? According to reports I've seen, your home could have us reasonably jumped forward if you sell it for it's maximum monetary value?"

Nikolai could see it right in front of him--two years from then, a ceremony. Watching you walk down the isle, a coronation where you were crowned as queen. A life as your husband, a life with you as his wife.

He glanced at the ring finger on his left hand--it was looking awfully bare, but if you said yes when Nikolai proposed, which he decided he would do right then, it would not look bare for the rest of his life.

"All in favor?" Nikolai asks, giving your hand a squeeze as the thought solidifies itself fully in his mind.

I am going to make her my bride.

Everyone, including a rather embarrassed Novikov, said "I" and you grinned victoriously.

Your plan was barely in motion, but it was starting to gain traction still. As Nikolai pressed a kiss to your cheekbone and the two of you moved to leave the meeting room, the same could be said of his.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 4. NERON “CREEPER” VARGAS

A/N: idea inspired by a required outing for me and encouraged by @darqchilddaydreamz 🤭 this is so unserious but not at the same time? I also don’t like how I learned to appreciate creeper after the fact? This is my first time ever writing for the man with a heart of gold. Smh. Him and Coco deserved better and in AU…Creeper & Coco would be the true besties. This is also somewhat that. Enjoy!

Synopsis: As a pizza chef you’re bound to keep your house just as stocked as your restaurant. However with a ice storm heading your way in two days…you persuade your husband, Neron to take you to the store to grab just a few extra things but soon find yourself in a battle with another shopper, who doesn’t know the first thing about personal space.

ADDED PROMPTS FROM HERE + I’m using: 3.) Shopping + 6.) “You’re really making me wear matching pajamas with you?”

WARNINGS: language + “reader” is given a name but not physically described yet I always have a black or woc in mind. + a sexual/steamy moment towards the end ;)

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

What was supposed to be more of a in and out kind of thing, turned into at least a thirty minute adventure. Sure Mariatu could blame it on the tasteful playlist the grocery store was playing—currently, “let it snow,” by Boyz II Men & Brian McPetty but she’d take the blame when she got back outside to her husband.

The original plan was to run in and get five items: a pack of mineral water full of electrolytes for Neron, a pack of cocoa powder, eggs, toilet paper rolls, and disinfectant wipes.

With the way prices are in this economy?

Mariatu knew it was probably best for Neron to run in grab everything but he suddenly got a call from Coco that had to do with business—which the founded brothers always stood on—so she did the honors of slipping out. She honestly didn’t mind, shopping was always thrilling to her because she knows regardless of what she picked up—whether she needed it or not—the items would always be put to good use. Mariatu was never one to let anything go to waste, it was something her parents always instilled.

Perhaps that’s why the carriage was getting heavier as she explored every other aisle, ending up in the international section, just for some lady to eye the contents of her carriage before settling her judgmental eyes on Mariatu. Their eyes connected but one was less friendly than the other, which was enough for Mariatu to pick up the speed. The previous aisle was more of a game of “chicken,” since one boulder of a man thought the aisle was a one way, the frozen section had one of its fridges leaking onto the floor and the constant call to, “clean up aisle 21,” seemed to go unheard, and just from entering the store a mother had to excuse herself and her screaming child who thought it would be best to start knocking over one of the displays.

Those should have been enough signs for Mariatu to do what she was supposed to do. Although the upbeat Christmas music was enough motivation to just make this a speed round, Mariatu couldn’t help that she spent longer than expected; even if she had a mental list of what they needed. Soon she found herself making a circle in the store towards the organic and produce section.

Eyeing the pomegranate seeds, Mariatu makes a bee-line for the fruit. Parking her carriage upwards from herself, she picks up the container eyeing the expiration date and then the quality of the red toned fruit. From her peripheral she sees someone leaning by the front of her carriage. She thinks not much of it figuring that they’re simply looking at a item that aligns with the end of her carriage. Silently debating over the snack for a moment longer, she opts for the larger pack instead before adding it to the carriage.

Seconds after, the handle of her carriage digs harshly into her stomach as the customer pushes their hip into the end of the carriage to reach for a bag of jumbo grapes. Mariatu blinks to herself in astonishment as the man holds the bag up to the light and moves his hips to do the same movement again!

This time Mariatu yanks on the carriage and goes around the man but not without muttering, “this is how you say excuse me,” on her way as she continues on up ahead. Eyeing the bag of baby spinach, she decides against it after grabbing a few green juices not long ago and just as she goes to push away from the section, she can hear the irritating sound of a broken carriage wheel pushing behind her.

Ever since Mariatu was a little girl she had great senses. Some may call it a gift while others maybe oblivious but she’s almost always right in judging distances and sensing presences that may or may not physically be there. In this present time as Mariatu is briefly glancing from the cart to make sure she’s not forgetting something and watching where she’s going, she can feel and hear the carriage behind her getting too close for her liking. Just as she’s reaching the corner, she peers over her shoulder to the pale as ice skinned man with a beanie that barely covers his thin salt colored hair and in that moment they come to some sort of understanding.

His shoulders relax, his lips pursed, grip still strong on the handle, he seems to slow down as his eyes connect with Mariatu’s. The side-eye game was always strong and she whips her head back, ringlets of curls bouncing with her underneath her beret as she does, a satisfying smile begins to grace her lipstick painted lips while she gets ready to turn the corner.

That’s short lived as a bump of the carriage from behind pressed into her backside first, thrashing her forward, followed by the knocking wheel which clips her ankle. A yelp escapes her lips, gaining the attention of a cashier who’s handling the handicap section and Mariatu has to exhale the steam that’s probably seeping from her eardrums.

Rubbing at the stinging skin above her ankle socks in her trainers, she glares at the older man who looks sheepish at the fact that his carriage actually interacted with his target.

“What’s your problem? You bump my carriage out of the way instead of using your manners, which you clearly lack and now you wanna play bumper cars with my ankle?” Mariatu questions the man who lifts his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I needed grapes,” the man started, “you could have done what I did and placed your carriage to the right so that way you’re not blocking other items that fellow customers need.”

Mariatu scoffs in disbelief, “well I’m not you and the proper thing to do if you need to get something is say excuse me or patiently wait until I’m done.”

“Sorry…but no?”

“No?” Mariatu felt her eye twitch and just to think, she was having a pretty solid day off, considering it was only twelve in the afternoon but still!

“Yeah,” the man continued, “you’re in my way and I have places to be too. Don’t know if you know this but a ice storm is coming and I need—

“Excuse me, I don’t give two shits what you need. Everybody that’s in here needs something, so honestly you can take that entitlement and shove it up right your ass, Mr.” Mariatu stated to the man without raising her voice but her brows definitely did, which means she meant that shit, “and happy holidays.”

With that she sorta limps from the man, enjoying that she had the last say and that his presence was no longer felt as he scrambles to go to one of the other aisles instead of to the self-check out area, which Mariatu was headed to.

Mariatu braced herself heading back into the breezy sixty degree weather, slowly letting out a sigh to herself as she crossed through the parking lot. She spots Neron waiting outside of her bronco and jumps into action as he looks up in time. “Ten minutes huh?” He teases with a shake of his head as he unlocks the trunk.

She scrunches her nose at him as they maneuver around the cart, taking turns adding the bags into the back. It doesn’t take Neron long to pick up on the way Mariatu is walking different once they get down to the the last few bags. “What’s up?” He asks.

Mariatu shakes her head as Neron points at her leg, “I’ll tell you in the car.”

The hoodie wearing man dips his head and takes the task of bringing the carriage back to its spot after opening the door for Mariatu. Neron doesn’t miss a certain man looking over in his wife’s direction as Neron crosses the parking lot one more. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, it’s Neron’s turn to have his eyes in slits as the strange man starts tossing his bags into his station wagon.

“That man with the pedophile car…you know ‘em?”

Mariatu hums, looking up from her phone to follow Neron’s trail and immediately scoffs, “oh yeah, we got friendly not too long ago. That’s the man who tried to run me over after I told him he basically needs to learn some manners.”

Neron flicks his eyes to his right, “what happened?” He pressed and Mariatu has no issue giving her husband the quick rundown of what just occurred.

He’s rubbing at his lengthy beard in slight irritation but also pride. “Put your seatbelt on,” he commands and Mariatu tilts her head to the side at this.

However the hardened stare Neron shoots her way and then back out the window shield was enough for her to listen this time. The tatted man places one hand on the steering wheel, tightening his grip and sitting up straight—which was always enough indication that someone was about to float their ride…so Mariatu braced herself.

Rightfully so.

As soon as she blinked, they were across the parking lot blocking the man’s path from completely backing out from the parking space.

“Neron,” Mariatu hissed as he pressed his brimmed hat further down on his head then flung the door open, leaving it wide open as he walked in between the cars to get to the man’s driver’s side, knocking on his window.

Mariatu couldn’t exactly hear what Neron was saying to the strange man as he was crouched over, talking to him in a manner that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. Her heart rate picked up as she saw Neron reach into the rolled down window, possibly snatching the man up by the throat and then shoving him forward that his horn announced his face made contact with it.

With that Neron sniffs as he turns back to the bronco, holding a bag now as he climbs back into the driver’s seat. He plops the bag of grapes into Mariatu’s lap and says, “Poe Cramer sends his apologizes. Eat up.”

“Neron, what did you do that for? I thought I told you that I handled it.” Mariatu brings her eyes up from the fruit in her lap to the profile of her husband’s face who begins driving through the parking lot.

Neron dips his head, “and I’m proud of you, Cariño. But he assaulted you so I returned the favor. Roughed him up a bit, he’s lucky that’s all he got and that’s out of respect for my lady being somewhat a witness…that I didn’t take it further. got his name from his license—just in case you run into him again and he decides to start some more shit but I doubt it. I clocked his ass—that’s all. No harm, no foul.”

“I can’t,” Mariatu snorts resting a hand against her edges, “I love you and I don’t need you locked up before Christmas.”

“I’m just contributing to society so I know Santa would forgive me,” Neron shrugs with a slow smirk appearing on his lips.

Mariatu laughs, “Oh that’s what you want to call it?” Before kicking her ankle up and over her opposite knee to examine, “don’t know why some people get so shitty during the holiday season, especially if you didn’t do anything wrong to them! They just feel like it’s okay to take it out on strangers. Like? What you say fuck me for?”

“You don’t even gotta worry about him no more, trust me,” Neron laughs at the joke, “you good though?”

Mariatu nods reaching over to feed Neron a grape before pecking his cheek, “always with you by my side, baby.”

“Likewise,” Neron winks over at the woman he was ecstatic to call his wife, resting the palm of his hand on her thigh.

Back in the gated, yes gated! suburbs of their coastal mobile home after unloading and packing the groceries, the married couple made it their mission that today would be a easy day. They rarely had days off at the same time so Neron and Mariatu wanted to take advantage of this with Mariatu persuading Neron to go shopping today rather than putting it off for the busiest day—Saturday. Now they had the rest of the day just to be up in each others faces, spending quality time together.

She’s in the bathroom, tending to her night time skin routine, already solidifying they were in for the rest of the day, while Neron’s perched on the edge of the bed tuned into the weather channel. The bathroom door’s wide open as Neron says, “you know your pa is trying to get coco and I to come out to Wyoming, huh?”

Mariatu frowns, “that’s where he snuck off to? The hell is he doing out there?”

The woman knew exactly what her father was doing out there. He made it a mission to travel more after the lost of his wife three years ago but…Wyoming? Really? Very Kanye coded but a lot less unhinged.

“Starting a new business adventure. Plans to do something either with construction or a food truck for a rest stop…he’s weighing his options based on how those meetings go.” Neron informed, “he sounds real determined and said he’ll keep me posted while also sending his love to you.”

Neron and Johnny had their own business together that consisted of mechanics and all things restoration, computers and guns, you name it! After things went terribly south (she often found it hard at times that they both made it out alive) with the club, they figured this would be their best option and Mariatu couldn’t be more supportive of the two. In whatever way she was often confused on her father bringing up his multiple business ideas to her husband and good friend. Neron and Coco seemed quite comfortable making their roots here and not all over the place like her father commonly did.

Yet of course she understood networking being a business owner herself…she just couldn’t picture Neron or Johnny elsewhere now that they were secure here and out of the tainted Santo Padre.

Mariatu rolls her eyes at this, loving how Neron threw that in there but she knew this was true with the way her father’s brain was constantly running with ideas. He’s always been a hardworking, successful man but he also didn’t know when to slow down. He was getting older and it’s like Mariatu was always fighting to have time with him, she valued that considering the lost of her mother but perhaps this was all his way of grieving?

You tend to do that sometimes at the end of the year they say.

“Will he back for Christmas? Kwanzaa, maybe?”

Neron wouldn’t lie and he knew how important Mariatu’s relationship was with her parents, which he did not receive personally but he always had his sisters so he understood to some degree, “he didn’t say honey but I’m sure he’ll try.”

“Right,” Mariatu is quiet for some time before starting up her spin brush again for a few minutes before rinsing her face and continuing the rest of her work.

The room is thicker now with Mariatu’s inner feelings about it all but Neron knows not to push it. They were similar in that way, holding everything in but Mariatu was better in letting it out when she was ready while Neron struggled with his own issues of people not hearing him when he did speak. However he knew not to feel that way with his wife, they confided in each other countless of times and felt seen being vulnerable with each other. It’s what drove them forward through the hardships.

Neron’s not sure how long he’s dazed off but a pair of pants smack across his face, followed by a snort of laughter that belonged to no other than his wife. He blinks, gripping onto the printed pants and scowls as he eyes the same print that Mariatu is sporting. Except her’s are shorts and he gets to eye her smooth legs in them.

Licking his lips Neron rubs at his beard, fighting to keep his thoughts clean as she slips a printed long sleeve set over her camisole, “You’re really making me wear matching pajamas with you?”

“Uh huh,” Mariatu nods her head with a smile, “we’ll be cozy and cute.”

Neron mumbles, “And lookin’ like the elves on the fucken shelf.”

Mariatu cackles as Neron shakes his head in disagreement. She stands before him, resting her hands across his shoulders, massaging them while staring down into his tense but loving brown eyes. Neron doesn’t hesitate to wrap his solid tatted arms around her waist, while she gets comfortable locking her legs right around his hips so they’re face to face now.

“I think you need a little more persuading and a thank you.”

“A thank you?” Neron ponders as Mariatu nuzzles her nose against the man’s, who breathes her in.

Mariatu pecks his lips, then trails those kisses along his jaw and up to his large ear, whispering, “for always looking out for me and especially for today. Will you let me take care of you?”

She can feel Neron shudder against her and she knew that Neron just wanted to be loved in return for the love that he gave out. Mariatu had no problem providing that and the confirmation of his fingertips digging into her waist was all she needed to make their lips collide. The scratch of his beard against her chin, the weight of her clung to his body, the force of shoving him back against the sheets, scrape of her stiletto nails that greeted his skin briefly as she helped him out of his tops, kissing of his wounds that were buried beneath his tats, the trick of her tongue against the round of his raised flesh which contained a hooped piercing that always evoked a breathy moan from his lips, the teasing and pleasing to his lower region with only her mouth was enough to bring joy right out of Neron’s heart.

Mariatu took the reigns but Neron couldn’t let that slide without getting his hands on her in the way he wanted and the way they both needed as well. A shower and clean up routine later, both now sporting red festive wear, they’re lounging against the headboard together, container of pomegranate seeds placed in between them while the skies in San Didacus continue filling in with a gray haze.

Neron and Mariatu both meet each other’s eyes after the dark haired man settled on, one of his favorites, “Krampus,” (2015) after finding one of the cheesy romantic Christmas movies to be too corny for their tastes.

“Ready to keep the festive spirit going?” Neron asks, wrist draped over Mariatu’s shoulder while she curls into him, leg tossed over his torso.

Mariatu covers her yawn, “yeah I am, I don’t know about you but I don’t want any demons hunting this house, especially once some kids come along.”

“Nah, krampus don’t got nothin’ on me.” Neron tells with a grin, “he better ask Poe and check my resume.”

“I haven’t even seen that resume.”

“I’m keepin’ it that way. Like I said when we took those vows, you don’t got to worry about nothing on that end. Just the restaurant and the good parts of life that we’re building together only.” Neron reassured in which Mariatu nodded with a smile.

Neron leans forward capturing Mariatu’s lips in a brief kiss before brushing his lips against her forehead then tunes back into the movie.

One thing is true, this holiday, equally the pair hopes this season brings further blessings to their table after growing what they both went through. The little moments mean just as much as the big ones and when they frequently stare into each other’s eyes…maybe in the end they can always say that’s the best gift the universe could have ever gave them.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

Continue the rest of my~5 days of Xmas~December anthology prompts here.

[boyfhee]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 · enhypen collab / CLOSED

ABOUT · we all have heard of right things going wrong, something along the lines of right person wrong time, things that weren't supposed to be this bad— but how about the other way round? perhaps, you wake up one day to find out your new neighbour is your ex and suddenly you're gravitating back towards him, a sworn enemy that makes you heart flutter after the one time he stood up for you, the person you rejected last week now lives in your head rent free, falling for the person who was supposed to help you with your crush— everything that started in all the wrong ways possible, but the stars plays into your hands, and maybe you could get something unexpected out of it.

GUIDELINES —

1 · first come, first serve. no reservations of slots. there is a 3 slots limit per member ( i am not writing 😆 or maybe i will if any slots are left, who knows ) to join, send an ask with the member you're writing for and the two keywords that are hidden in the rules. reblog the post once you've been accepted ( for clout and boosts 🫶 )

2 · your work can be x reader aligned or x oc aligned. no idol pairings.

3 · as obvious from the theme, this is supposed to be an all fluff collab. of course, you can start off with any genre, switch to something else in middle, go off with your imagination, but long story shot, a happy ending is a must. additionally, you can take inspiration from movies / drama / novels or poetry / songs & artworks / anywhere else, with proper credits. first keyword is earl grey.

4 · no nsfw works, suggestive is fine for legal members only. all the warnings should be mentioned as such. you work should have synopsis, genre, warnings and word count before the main content. use a readmore cut after 500 words. add the tag ❝ @ : uc. ❞ in the first five tags for me to track it. alternatively, you can tag me in your work or send me the link to make sure your entry reaches me.

5 · minimum word count is 1k. you're free to write one shots ( 1k-3k ) full lengths fic ( 3k+ ) no headcanons, timestamps, drabbles, one shot text fics. if you choose to write a series ( written or smau ) please make sure to complete it once you've started. only full length completed works will be accepted. you're free to post teasers except it won't be reblogged. ( please note that the numbers in brackets are just approximate values and not limits )

6 · deadline is 31st december, 2023. you can drop out before may 31st. a link to the discord server for this collab will be provide once you're accepted, it's not mandatory to join. if you have any questions, you can send an ask or dm ( at chiyuv / shoyotime / torhues ) second keyword is tea.

SLOTS & FICS — ENTRIES IN GREEN ARE CLOSED

HEESEUNG · @dearhee

JAY · @notthatsamkim

JAKE · @amakumos / @asahicore

SUNGHOON · @taejays / @seungiepup / @redm4ri

SUNOO · @luvhyun3

1 ⋆ YKWIM : @astrae4

synopsis: Kim Sunoo is irrevocably in love with Park Y/N. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was the one. However, things seem to be against him! Firstly, he’s an idol. Secondly, she’s also an idol! And finally, she’s Park Jongseong’s sister. However, Sunoo thinks his prayers have been heard! He just can’t believe that it had to take a scandal to be closer with his loml.

JUNGWON · @jennaissantes / @ayayiiie

RIKI · @yyunari / @jaeyunverse

1 ⋆ PEOPLE EATER : @homelycat

outline・countless unwanted meetings lead to an inevitable relationship. from begrudging small-talk to mellow confessions; patience and pride learn from one another.

[earthstellar]

Image Comics has dropped their solicits for December 2023, and it looks like Duke #1 is where the Transformers/GI Joe crossover is gonna start really kicking off for the Energon Universe.

I know the general reception to the crossover at the end of ROTB was pretty rough, so it's interesting that they're getting the ball rolling in a GI Joe mini-series.

Personally, my dad was drafted into two wars against his will and suffered greatly for it, so I never had any interest in GI Joe because my dad vehemently hated that shit, as he felt it glorified war to children and that this is morally unacceptable. (He preferred the depiction of Army life of that era in MASH, which he said was at least more honest and aimed at adults.)

I also had classmates who ended up joining the military who had been big fans of GI Joe, two of whom were killed in Afghanistan. I know GI Joe wasn't the only factor involved in their decisions, but it certainly does not make me inclined to like the franchise.

My mother lost her first husband in Vietnam. He had also been drafted against his will. (I strongly dislike the GI Joe Vietnam era material in particular, for perhaps obvious reasons.)

So, I admit my general dislike of the concept of GI Joe as a franchise is at least partly based in my own trauma (and that of my family) relating to the US Army.

I've never been a GI Joe person and never will be (on moral and trauma based grounds), so I fully admit I am not well versed on the lore of that universe, and as such, it's hard for me to make any guesses at what Duke #1 might bring.

But what interests me is that on certain forums and other social media, I've seen very limited audience hype about this crossover in general, especially from the Transformers crowd.

After the extremely progressive writing and fresh visual style and designs of the IDW Transformers storylines which appealed to a lot of people across several age ranges and generations of fans, it feels weird (to me at least) to suddenly have a more old school style crossover with what is essentially a US military propaganda franchise-- At a time when the sociopolitical zeitgeist is that "going traditional" is often associated with "going backwards".

All art is political, and so on.

But I do wonder if what seems to be a lack of audience hype is partially due to the fact that not a lot of Transformers fans (at least, not many under the age of 40 based on what I'm seeing around the internet at the moment) seem to be all that into GI Joe.

A lot of young people are not exactly in love with US military fantasies, and the last Transformers comic series with IDW was a big hit with younger/teen readers-- A lot of that audience might be lost, here.

(And vice-versa from what I can tell, although I'm not in any GI Joe fan spaces so I'm not sure what the mood might be in that community in regards to the Transformers element of this crossover.)

All that having been said, the Energon Universe is only just getting started, and who knows what the comics will actually contain!

I do like G1, so I like the designs for the Transformers as drawn in this run this far.

And who knows, maybe they'll do something new with GI Joe for this. I'm aware that in at least one of the cartoons, they were essentially on the run from the military instead of working for it, which is an interesting twist. Perhaps something similar might happen here, with some Joes siding with the Autobots instead?

It's not fair to judge before a comic is even released, so I'm just thinking out loud here in regards to the crossover concept in general.

I'd be interested to hear what anyone else thinks:

Will you be checking out Duke #1 as a Transformers fan interested in the crossover?

Have any of you been interested in GI Joe previously?

If you're an IDW Transformers fan, are you interested in the Energon Universe?

Any other thoughts on the crossover, any conjecture or hopes for the direction of this run?

I want to give the Energon Universe a chance, but as I mentioned, I do have some difficulty attempting to get into GI Joe in general.

That having been said, I guess we'll have to wait and see what they do with this crossover.

[adamnablelittledevil]

Just finished Blood Canticle. It wasn't the holy trinity of TVA, TVL and TQOTD, but to be fair it wasn't Memnoch either. C'mon now, be serious. /j/lh

Now I'm on my way to the last trilogy, Vittorio, Interview With the Vampire and Mayfair Witches. And then I'll read them again to some extent (specially TVA and TVL in chronological order because that must be delicious), organize favorite quotes from the books, write some metas etc etc.

I'm excited with my reading progress, I've read 10 books for these past 3 months, and I've already succeeded my own expectations of only being able to read 3 more books before the year ends... I've managed to read 4 and still have November and December left. Who knows. Perhaps I'll manage to read all of the remaining 9/19 books on my list, including the one by someone else that I'd been stuck with for a year and still haven't finished.

Anyway, I feel like I understand more of this universe and even have an idea of what to expect from the show, which was my goal when I decided to read the books. I don't feel that lost on fandom discourse anymore, even though I don't always agree with people. I love having the information and my own conclusions and not relying on what others think and say. And I know this last trilogy is wild and people feel all kinds of ways about it, but that's the good side of being an Aquarius. I can be the out-of-the-box, weird, eccentric, unpopular opinion and love it. We'll see. And for better or worse, I'm excited to potentially see Armand, Pandora, Bianca, Maharet, Mekare, Jesse, Benji, Sybelle, Flavius, Gabrielle, Petronia and/or Mona again. And hopefully some other characters will grow on me too. 🙌

ANYWAY, not sure what was the point of this post lol. I guess I just wanted to share my thoughts after reading 10 books hehe. If anybody wants to share how they feel about the chronicles, has just started them or are still contemplating reading them or not and wants to say something here... Feel free. 🙃 Oh, and btw, I just realized that watching the show again after reading TVC must be cool. I'll look forward to that too. 😌

[desceros]

i don’t think you have to apologize at all for not having a symphony update tbh! it’s very gracious of you to do so but i hope people remember that it’s your passion project first and foremost and not anything any of us readers (regardless of how involved or invested you allow us to be) should feel we have any say over, schedule wise. i love your writing and will always wait for it, and know a lot of your other readers will probably say the same!

(as an aside: something i noted when i first started following you in december was how prolific you were… like the fact i could check your blog every day and there was some food?? i was floored. but even your current posting sched impresses me—the fact that you say you’ll have something out one day and on that day IT IS OUT. idk maybe i am used to my old fandoms being more casual or being interrupted by life, as fandoms with adults tend to be like. so you writing and sharing as much as you do is not something i take for granted. thank you as always.)

(i hope this message reads as appreciative / friendly as i intend it to be hhhh… i’m sorry if not…)

thank you for your kind message! i have a rather long one in return, i do apologize, but it is me, so we should probably have all seen it coming! :D

so, i've kind of talked about it here and there, but i have a wrist that is pretty sensitive to overworking. in high school, i would practice music for hours and hours every day without properly stretching or taking breaks, because no one told me i should do so. as a result, i really wrecked the tendons, and my ulnar nerve in particular has a tendency to flare up. it's quite painful when it hurts, and before it starts properly hurting, i experience i kind of buzzing numbness that is distinctly uncomfortable. it's not severe enough for surgical intervention, but it's definitely a limiting factor in what i'm capable, mechanically, of doing in a day.

back around november/december, i was posting a lot more. but that was with me disregarding my wrist and pushing through the pain, such that for the first couple of weeks in january it was nearly impossible for me to write. this was emotionally agonizing, because i love writing so, so much, and i wanted to share everything in my head with all of you! i felt like i was failing on a precedent i had set for myself, and it's very irritating seeing my mountain of projects getting bigger because i can't write quickly enough to put a dent in it and not just because i was coming up with more ideas (which is, to be clear, still suuuuch a problem haahahhaa).

it got to the point where i started confiding in my partner and my friends about my issue, and they all insisted that i start slowing down. and they're right! i was being reckless with my health, knowingly this time, and they're absolutely correct that i need to take breaks. take days where i don't write. days where i rest, and stretch, and let my wrist heal and recover.

i know it sucks as a reader, i really do, especially if you came on board during that time when i was being super active. and i'm not apologizing, per se, since i'm certainly not going to apologize for prioritizing health over hobby. but i do understand the... hm. i'm going to say frustration, but perhaps i mean the disappointment, or the whiplash maybe, from having someone going from posting very very frequently to less so. i'm still what i'd categorize as an active, prolific writer, but it is infuriating to know that, without this injury, i'd be capable of much more. it annoys me to no end, i swear! but i am purposefully stepping back, for my health, and for the worry of my friends and love ones.

all that said! nothing is on hiatus, nothing is being cancelled, none of that. it's just going to take me longer to work through things than any of us would like, hahahaha. so i really do thank you for your sweet and encouraging message, and i appreciate all of you for every thoughtful wish you send, all of your funny comments on my fics, and your support. i'm actually getting to the happy problem that there are so many that it's not quite feasible for me to respond to all of them individually, but i do read and treasure each one. this is the most uplifting, positive fandom i've ever experienced, and it really does make a difference as a writer knowing that people are filled with joy when i share my art and then go and spin that joy back out into the world.