#The Dead World Librarian

[esa-marie]

I like making spotify playlists so heres a masterlist.

I'm still updating a ton of these and if you have any suggestions for characters/ prompts i would love to hear it

Fandom:

Shirt music with success of upon people || Flesh Cousin || Regretevator

Mostly compiled of songs that are utter nonsense, or fit the idea of a disconnect between your mind and your body.

Toxic construction Yaoi || Mannequin mark and Wallter || Regretevator

Songs that are pining, but also sad. bc divorce.

I just love to dance || Big Mama || ROTTMNT

Big Mama talks about dancing a lot in rottmnt. I threw in lots of girl disco and some more evil-vibed songs, ofc. (I love her sm im a #1 big mama defender)

FUCK YES! || Karlach || BG3

Karlach's story means so much to me. lots of songs to do with fire/ inevitability/ general badassery.

Fate spins along as it should || Withers || BG3

This one is the most WIP bc im sourcing a lot of the songs from old 13th century manuscripts, which is harder than it sounds.

Various White Knight Chronicles Playlists ( Cisna , Ceasar , Eldore , Yulie , Leonard , Kara , Setti/Grazel ). Since the fandom is actually incredibly small I might make a separate post for their playlists.

OC and others under cut!

OC

'What is it?' 'Home.' || Zael Stormveil || BG3 tav

Zael is my first tav when I started playing BG3. Im developing her more as I play, and started a tag for her on this blog

Was I sweet once? || Anatasios || BG3 Durge

Even though I havent finished my Zael run, I started a Durge run. Still more WIP than other playlists, and is about resist!Durge

Comin' atcha live from Avalonia! :3 || Elliot || LBP OC

Elliot, also known as console kitty, is a tv celebrity in avalonia! Ill spare you the rest of their lore for now, but their playlist is full of silly goofy songs, and songs about not feeling good enough, for whatever reason :)

Spidersona [Spider: Null] || Eve || Project Eden

My spidersona universe (Project:Eden) uses a different titling scheme than my other playlists. Anyway, Eve was a computer program who was ejected into reality. She now has to figure out how to be a human, and what being a human really is.

The Lizard || Lilith || Project Eden

Eve's best friend, who knew her when she was just a program on a laboratory computer. She has a corruption arc :3 (dw she gets better. Kinda.) gentle songs, and some not-so gentle songs

Doc Ock || 'Ock || Project Eden

A scientist who was employed at the same facility Eve was created. calculating, colhearted, cynical. at least for now (enemies to lovers??? P). Science songs and love songs, ofc

The Goblin || Goby || Project Eden

His tagline is "Imitations Limitations"-- a fish man cyborg amalgamation that was trying desperately to mimic the structures of pre-awakened Eve. But, that didn't go well, for him or the scientists. Not nonsense, but definitely songs that teeter on insane.

You said you know a guy? || Vance || Rottmnt OC

Vance is a scavenger, they go above the hidden city and 'scavenge' for things to sell below. Energy is his name, an he lives up to it.

You dont know me. || The Ghosts Official Playlist

I have several WIP projects, and Pastries and a Poltergeist is one of them. The ghost inhabits this old, run down, 70s house and is trying to get Maya to move out. but she wont. Melancholy 70s

I need this. || Maya Dufour's Official Playlist

Recent college graduate, she's about to find out why this house was insanely cheap. Stubborn. WIP.

This is a story about beginnings || The Librarian's Official playlist.

Ill spare the story for The Dead World for now, but The librarians playlist is a lot of epic orchestral and some medival songs sprinkled in.

Squash and Stretch || Cross || AVA/AVM OC

Living in-between a sketched figure and a stick figure, Cross is ever stuck in limbo. lots of video game songs/ songs to pick them up.

GameDev!Donnie || TMNT SONA Official Playlist

Gamedev is stuck in the world of video games for now. He doesnt mind a ton, although he misses his brothers sometimes. Filled with upbeat/happy video game songs

Monsters? That's Outrageous! || Gwen || Doors OC

WIP, but songs relating to the timeloop shes stuck in or the game itself.

Got it!! || Tracey || White Knight Chronicles OC

Songs for when your not the main character but still trying to be useful.

Technically I have more OC playlists but I think that's good for now ahjhkdbSAhkadk

Other

GET SHIT DONE (via killer video game soundtracks)

Over 40 hours of video game music (as soon as i finish a game it gets shoved into this playlist. I might reduce it in the future but I like the absurdity of how big it is)

She blinded me... WITH SCIENCE!!! || Silly songs about science

Specifically songs referring to science. This started as a Donatello playlist but then i fully committed to the bit. This is also technically my most popular playlist for some reason lmao.

A New Ghost Town

WIP playlist for a fanfic I may never make (each song is supposed to be representative of a chapter/ the chapter titles) (if you wanna know its dp and Gravity falls crossover)

Again, you'll see more playlists than this on my account (shared) But heres the tip of the iceberg :)

[thewickedbohemian]

Something of a bonus round to my musical idea poll (as I remembered a few others I had I didn't put on there because there was already too many options)

Some clarifications/notes on each

For those thinking due to not just it being a video game but the kind of game it is that What Remains Of Edith Finch would be unstageable, just look at Fun Home as if WROEF could be a musical I could see it having that sort of structure. Only issue would be how exacting one has to be for casting biracial characters as Lewis, Milton and Edith Jr. are all half-white-half-Indian but otherwise I think this really could pop off (I mean as much as a musical that might share similar target demographics to This Is Us could be said to "pop off"). Y'know, with the right set designer the visual style could be amazing on stage and since my vision for the sound of this show ever since I had the idea that WROEF could work on stage is basically "PNW indie folk" because it's set on Orcas Island, Washington maybe an indie artist from that area could help with the music

I feel like the only reason (unless there's some rights thing I'm not aware of) we haven't had a Dead Poets Society musical is who the hell do you get to fill the shoes of the late great Robin Williams and not just because that's what I'm stuck on too

some of the stuff in the first Librarian movie might seem difficult to technically pull off on stage but I think there's shows that have done similar and while I did find a surprisingly perfect dream casting for movies-era!Flynn (Daniel Radcliffe, close to the right age, right amount of geeky-yet-still-charismatic and wouldn't it seem perfect for him to step back into another fantastical hero's journey 20-ish years after Harry Potter) I haven't really got a lead on who'd work for anyone else

The main issue I see (if this is a thing Disney would do) with bringing Inside Out to the stage is not what you'd think as (while some would still take some creativity) some of the seemingly-unstageable parts could be pulled off with creative use of stuff like projector-screens. No, the issue is I don't think there's ever been an existing musical that would have the physical aspects (as of course they'd have to be able to pull off the part acting/singing/dancing/wise too) of casting rely as much on actors' figures as this would as Sadness would have to be short and chubby, Anger would have to be short and stocky and Fear would have to be tall and skinny and I worry either these kinds of requirements would potentially be accidentally-a-little-noninclusive or at least make casting this show an absolute bitch

I specified movie and/or book for Wonder (which I had to clarify what I meant for because that's a vague title) because idr how they differ plot-wise. But yeah I think this could totally work and hit the same kind of Tonybait vibes as Dear Evan Hansen was attempting but with a much less morally-problematic story (and Daveed Diggs and Mandy Patinkin were both in the movie so they could perhaps reprise their roles in a stage version)

I'm surprised no one's ever seriously thought of a Scott Pilgrim stage musical before given that the seeds of a musical are there in the movie, maybe it's because it'd have to avoid both of the problems that plagued Spiderman: Turn Off The Dark (effect/stunt-induced actor injuries and, in the words of the great Neil Patrick Harris, "death-defying budget overruns") in addition to how specific the ethnicities of some of the characters (and therefore actors) have to be. But figure those out easily and you could get a potential sci-fi cult-classic on the level of Be More Chill (though that's not to say it couldn't be even more successful)

So which of these shows would you most want to see on Broadway if they could be?

[samiholloway]

Currently a rotating constellation of probably four or five old ones I keep coming back to that keep not getting written*, but lately I've come up with a few new ones that I might tackle**??

[turning-pages-seeking-sages]

📖✨ Monthly Reading Wrap-Up

October 2024 Edition

📗 I Have Some Questions for You by Rebecca Makkai Mystery/Thriller | ★★★★☆ (4/5) A true-crime podcaster returns to her alma mater to revisit an old murder case, stirring up buried memories and unexpected revelations. Review: Makkai delivers a gripping and layered narrative that tackles both suspense and self-reflection.

📕 A World of Curiosities by Louise Penny Mystery | ★★★★☆ (3.75/5) In the heart of Three Pines, a hidden attic leads to secrets buried in Gamache’s past, as a new generation wrestles with unresolved mysteries. Review: Intricate and compelling, but I felt like the characters made bad decisions purely to advance the plot and elevate the stakes.

📙 The Librarian of Burned Books by Brianna Labuskes Historical Fiction | ★★★★½ (4.5/5) A captivating read that will resonate deeply with fans of historical fiction, particularly those who appreciate stories about the power of literature to overcome adversity, the resilience of women in the face of oppression, and the beauty of love and hope in the darkest of times Review: A beautiful, moving tribute to the power of books that (surprisingly!) centers queer characters.

Click 'keep reading' for the full list and StoryGraph links.

📘 At First Spite by Olivia Dade Romantic Comedy | ★★★☆☆ (3/5) After a broken engagement, Athena moves into the tiny Spite House she bought for her ex-fiancé, only to discover that his infuriating older brother, the man who convinced him to leave her, lives next door. Review: This story does a decent job depicting depression, but unbelievable scenes and cringe banter pulled me out of the story several times.

📗 The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison Fantasy | ★★★★☆ (4/5) Thara Celehar, a Witness for the Dead, uses his gift to bring closure to lost souls while facing dark mysteries in the city of Amalo. Review: A quietly powerful story with heart and compassion at its core, full of political intrigue and mystery.

📕 The Grief Stones by Katherine Addison Fantasy | ★★★★☆ (3.75/5) Thara Celehar, a Witness for the Dead, uses his gift to investigate a noblewoman’s murder, uncovering disturbing secrets within a girls' school and confronting painful truths in the shadows of Amalo. Review: While I enjoyed this book, the pacing was off, and some plot lines were rushed.

📙 A Great Reckoning by Louise Penny Mystery | ★★★★¾ (4.75/5) Gamache takes on the role of commander at the police academy, uncovering corruption and a map that could solve a decades-old mystery. Review: One of my favorites in the series; a beautifully layered narrative with suspense and emotional depth.

📘 Glass Houses by Louise Penny Mystery | ★★★★☆ (4/5) When a mysterious figure appears in Three Pines, it sets off a chain of events that forces Gamache to confront his past decisions and their deadly repercussions. Review: A thought-provoking mystery with masterful tension and a gripping storyline.

📗 Kingdom of the Blind by Louise Penny Mystery | ★★★★☆ (4/5) Chief Inspector Armand Gamache finds himself named as one of the executors of a stranger’s will, leading to an intricate mystery rooted in secrets and lies. Review: Penny's storytelling shines with rich character depth and an intricately woven mystery.

📕 The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin Fantasy/Sci-Fi | ★★★★☆ (3.75/5) In a vividly imagined New York City, five people embodying the boroughs must come together to defend it from an otherworldly threat. Review: I enjoyed the premise, but sometimes the messages felt hamfisted.

[dandelion-de-deus]

When we die death makes stories of us all. This is our most profound grace and our most terrible tragedy

[orangeblossomsintheair]

RULE #2 | CS55

summary : "You promised," he choked out. "You promised you wouldn’t break rule two."

warning/s : sickness, vomiting, hurt/no comfort, death

an : yall have been begging for angst so 🤷🏽 here’s pt 1 of my dead wives series

Carlos Sainz loves you. It is inevitable. It is woven into the fabric of who he is. Just as the earth revolves around the sun, just as a fire burns.

Some things in this world are simply destined to be, and his love for you is one of them.

He remembers the first time he saw you like it happened yesterday.

College had been a blur of stress and sleepless nights for him, drowning in a relentless tide of engineering coursework, circuits, and mechanics that left no room for anything else.

Then you walked into his life, unannounced, unassuming, and shattered the monotony with a force he couldn’t comprehend.

You had been a medical student, your schedule just as demanding, yet you carried yourself with a lightness that seemed impossible.

He remembers watching you in the library, bent over your notes, your lips moving slightly as you memorized terms he couldn’t begin to pronounce.

He hadn’t meant to stare. But then you’d looked up, catching his eye, and smiled. It was the kind of smile that stuck with him, that sank its claws into his mind and refused to let go.

The first time you laughed at one of his jokes, something about thermodynamics, of all things, he had stared at you, stunned, like the world had stopped spinning for just a moment.

And when you’d matched his nerdy humor with a quip of your own, so quick and sharp that he was left speechless, he had known.

That night, he went home and called his sister, still dazed, still unable to believe what had happened.

"I've met the love of my life," he’d told her, voice shaking with an excitement that bubbled over uncontrollably.

"You’re being ridiculous," she’d replied, unimpressed, as always. "You don’t even know her."

But he had known.

—

It had started as a joke.

One of those silly, late-night conversations in the library, where exhaustion made everything funnier than it really was.

The campus was dead silent that night, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of pages being turned. It was nearly 2 a.m., the kind of hour where the world felt unreal, where time stretched and blurred, where reality felt softer at the edges.

Carlos had been sitting across from you, his laptop open to a problem set he wasn’t even pretending to understand anymore.

His fingers drummed against the table as he watched you work, hunched over your thick textbook, scribbling furiously.

You looked up, catching his stare. “What?”

Carlos smirked. “Nothing. Just thinking how much easier my life would be if I had your brain.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “And I was just thinking how much better mine would be if I had your charm. You could probably flirt your way into a free degree.”

“Or at least free snacks from the vending machine,” he added, grinning.

You laughed, the sound soft but rich, the kind that still echoed in his mind years later.

Then, suddenly, his expression shifted. Something thoughtful creeping into his gaze. “We should make a pact.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A pact?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward. “Rules for life. So we don’t screw things up.”

Intrigued, you set your pen down. “Okay. Rule number one?”

“No betraying each other.”

You smiled, nodding. “Agreed. No betrayal.” You tapped a finger against your chin. “What’s rule number two?”

Carlos hesitated, then, with mock seriousness, leaned in like he was about to tell you the secret to the universe. “No one dies.”

You barked out a laugh, the librarian across the room shooting you a glare. “That’s your rule?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “It’s non-negotiable.”

Shaking your head, you held out your hand. “Fine. No betraying each other. No one dies. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, gripping your hand firmly.

At the time, it had been a joke. Just another of a thousand little moments between the two of you.

Carlos had no idea then how much those words would mean to him.

—

The first time you got sick, really sick, Carlos didn’t take it seriously.

It was a cough at first. A rough, hacking thing that made you wince but still had you waving him off with a half-smile.

"Relax, cariño," you’d said, voice scratchy but amused. "It’s just a cold."

Carlos narrowed his eyes at you, unconvinced. “You have a fever.”

"It’s a dramatic fever," you shot back, tugging the blanket up over your shoulders. "I’m merely suffering for the aesthetic."

He snorted, shaking his head. “Dramatic is right.”

He had kissed your forehead that night, tucking you into his side, his lips warm against your too-hot skin. And you had sighed, sinking into him like you always did, like you belonged there.

It had been easy then.

A flu, he’d told himself. Something temporary.

Nothing permanent. Nothing real.

—

But the cough never really went away.

Neither did the fevers, or the way your limbs felt heavier with each passing day.

You stopped stealing fries off his plate. Stopped nudging him awake in the mornings, rolling your eyes at how deeply he slept. Stopped teasing him about the way he could fall asleep anywhere.

On a plane, in a car, once even in the middle of a club when the music was loud enough to shake the walls.

One afternoon, when you had been too tired to get out of bed, he had finally said it out loud.

"Maybe we should see a doctor."

You had smiled at him, but it was too soft, too thin. "It’s nothing, Carlos. I just need rest."

He had believed you.

God help him, he had wanted to believe you.

—

The hospital came later.

By then, it wasn’t something you could wave away with a joke, wasn’t something you could cover up with sheer willpower.

By then, you were struggling to catch your breath after walking across the room.

By then, Carlos had started waking up in the middle of the night to find you curled in on yourself, your whole body trembling, your hands clenched into fists beneath the sheets.

By then, even you had stopped pretending.

"Okay," you had whispered, one night, your fingers gripping his. "Maybe it’s not just a cold."

Carlos had swallowed hard, his throat tight. But he had smiled anyway, because that was what he did. He stayed steady, he stayed strong, even when the ground was crumbling beneath his feet.

"No pasa nada," he had murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "We’ll figure it out."

And for a while, just a little while, you both still believed that was true.

—

The early hospital visits weren’t so bad.

You made them an adventure, the way you did with everything.

"We should start a ranking system," you had said one day, swinging your legs over the side of the exam table. Best hospital coffee. Best waiting room magazines. Best nurses who let me steal extra blankets."

Carlos grinned, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "That depends. Is this going to be a five-star system, or are we working on a ten-point scale?"

"Oh, five stars, obviously," you said, deadly serious. “We have to account for dramatic flair.”

"And yet you still insist you’re not dramatic."

"I contain multitudes, Carlos."

And God, you were still you then.

A little tired, a little pale, but still full of light. Still brimming with something sharp and teasing and warm.

Carlos had let himself believe it would last.

That the doctors would find the problem and fix it. That this was a detour, not a dead end.

That you were too strong for this.

That he would not have to watch you disappear, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the girl who had once laughed in the middle of a silent library, who had once stood beside him and made a promise that neither of you ever really thought would matter.

—

Some nights were better than others.

There were nights when you were yourself again. When you teased him about the dark circles beneath his eyes, your voice carrying that familiar warmth, something alive and teasing and so you that he could almost convince himself this was temporary.

That this, this hospital bed, these wires, these endless nights of waiting, was just a phase, something the two of you would look back on one day and laugh about.

"You look like hell," you’d whisper, your voice hoarse but still edged with amusement.

Carlos would scoff, pressing a damp cloth to your forehead. "And you look stunning, obviously."

You'd grin, even as exhaustion weighed down your eyelids. "I try."

Nights like those, he let himself believe.

But then there were nights like this.

Nights when you couldn't stop shaking from the pain, your body curling in on itself as he held you, whispering reassurances you were too far gone to hear. Nights when you sobbed into his chest, when your breath came in ragged, broken gasps, when you whispered, "I can't do this anymore, Carlos. I can't."

And Carlos, who had spent his entire life fixing things, who had built his world on the certainty that every problem had a solution, could do nothing.

So he held you. Ran his fingers through your hair. Pressed desperate kisses to your temple.

And when sleep finally dragged you under, he would slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before collapsing to the floor.

He would grip the sink so hard his fingers went numb, bow his head until his forehead pressed against the cold tile.

His body would shake with the weight of it, with the sheer unfairness of it all, with the grief that felt too large to be contained within his chest.

Carlos Sainz was not a religious man.

But on nights like these, he prayed.

Begged.

For a miracle. For a cure. For just a little more time.

—

One night, when your breathing was too shallow, too slow, something in him snapped.

The moment he noticed it, the unnatural stillness, the faintest hitch in the beeping of the monitors, he was out of his chair, panic sharp and immediate in his chest.

His hands trembled as he pressed the call button.

"Nurse," he barked, his voice hoarse. "Something's wrong."

The nurses rushed in, their voices a blur, their hands moving quickly as they adjusted your oxygen, checked your vitals. Carlos stood frozen, helpless, as they worked.

And then, as quickly as the panic had come, the moment passed. Your breathing steadied. The machines quieted.

And Carlos, who had spent the last several minutes standing motionless, fists clenched, lungs burning, finally let himself collapse into the chair beside your bed.

His elbows rested on his knees, his head dropping into his hands. He tried to steady his own breathing, tried to remind himself that you were still here.

You were still here

You were still here.

A moment later, he felt the faintest touch on his arm.

Carlos lifted his head so fast it made him dizzy.

Your fingers barely managed to curl around his wrist, your touch so weak he could barely feel it. But your eyes were open, heavy-lidded and exhausted, searching for him.

"Hey," he whispered. His voice felt raw, scraped down to nothing.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Carlos exhaled shakily, reaching out to press a hand against your cheek. Your skin was too warm, feverish, but you leaned into his touch anyway.

"You scared me," he admitted, his voice thick.

You tried to smile. It didn't reach your eyes.

Carlos swallowed, his throat burning. He forced himself to hold your gaze, even as the words clawed their way out of his chest, raw and desperate and entirely true.

"You promised," he choked out. "You promised you wouldn’t break rule number two."

A flicker of something passed through your expression. Regret, sadness, something heavier than the both of you combined.

"Carlos," you whispered.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No. You don’t get to break this one. You don’t."

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He could see it, the truth you were too kind to say out loud. The truth he refused to accept.

Carlos bent down, pressing his forehead to your knuckles. His grip on your hand was too tight, but he couldn't make himself let go.

"Please," he whispered. "Please don’t leave me."

You didn’t answer.

And somehow, that silence was worse than anything else.

—

Days passed. Then weeks.

Carlos barely left your side. He learned the names of every nurse on the floor. Memorized the dosages of your medications. Knew the precise moment when your painkillers would wear off, when you'd need him to press the call button before you were in too much agony to speak.

And still, he held on.

Because Carlos Sainz loves you.

It is inevitable. It is constant. It is everything.

And even as your breaths grew shallower, even as your hands trembled when you reached for him, even as the hope he had clung to for so long withered beneath the weight of reality-

He stayed.

—

One night, when exhaustion was too heavy for you to fight, you whispered, “You should go home, Carlos. You need rest.”

Carlos exhaled sharply. Shook his head. "I am home."

You tried to argue, but he silenced you with a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. He could feel your pulse beneath his lips, slow and unsteady.

"I’m not going anywhere."

You sighed, a soft exhale against his shoulder, and for a moment, for a moment, he let himself pretend everything was okay.

—

He lost count of the days.

There was no clear marker for when hope turned into grief. No defining moment where he realized you weren’t going to make it.

It just happened.

Like a tide pulling out to sea.

Like the quiet between heartbeats.

A promise broken, too softly to hear.

And when you were finally gone, when the world felt too quiet, too empty, too wrong, Carlos sat in the chair beside your bed, your hand still in his.

And he whispered, “You broke the rules.”

---

Permanent taglist: @papichulomacy @softhecreator @claimingharrystigertattoo @mel164 @rendezvoushn @trashyy-004 @330bpm-whiplash @lilorose25 @alilcloudy @residentdemonhunter

[zqxouii]

biker!geto x librarian!reader (fem!/afab!) | warnings : mdni 18+

biker!geto, who's a damn hottie, what was he doing at a fucking library? shouldn't he be out there messing up with the cops, breaking headlights, or traffic rules instead of rotting here at this dead silent place?

— "evening, missy."

biker!geto, who's eyes have been locked in yours ever since he stepped into the library, walks over from shelf to shelf, what's he upto now? another one of his prank maybe?

— " well, miss bookish, if you’re so smart, how about you explain why I can’t seem to get you out of my head?"

biker!geto, (get a load of this) who placed this bet to make you fall head over heels for him, grabbing every little thing to talk about, only to flirt right after?

— "miss lit, shouldn't you try hanging out with me instead of wasting your time here reading your remeo and juliet the 100th time already?"

biker!geto, who seems to get the idea that you're atleast, are a tiniest bit in love with him as catching you staring at him from so afar, isn't anything else.

— "c'mon, don't be shy miss know-it-all, why not join me at the local bar?"

biker!geto, who's eyes light up after constantly trying to grab your attention is now annoying the fuck outta you, as you had finally accepted his invite. riding his bike felt like flying to you, to be honest, but also free at the same time?

— "yep. that's the kinda girl I like."

biker!geto, who got you all drunken now, begins with his actual plan. he brings you to a private room where he strips every cloth off him in front of you only to add to the fire and get you on the bed already.

— "let the night begin, shouldn't we, miss?"

biker!geto, who's way of fucking hit your sweet spot would make your eyes roll all the way back with every thrust, how he'd suck on your nipple so oddly perfectly, or mark your neck as if he owned you.

— "didn't know that booky ladies could fuck so good."

biker!geto, who made sure that every droplet of your cum on your folds was licked clean, your body was well marked to show the world who you now belong to.

— "everything that I own is yours now, darling."

© zqxouii — the storyline belongs to me and I do not consent anyone to translate, repost or rephrase my writing on any other platform so I expect you to respect my boundaries.

[kawoala]

I saw you wanted requests, went "I have so many!!", opened ask box.... brain goes blank. Basic ass rq incoming. College au perhaps? Tsukishima Kei who is nicer to you than most people but that still seems like he barely tolerates you. One day you overhear him (how? Girl idk <3) telling his friend(s) that he does wanna ask you out but he doesn't really know you or wtv and he thinks it's just friendly talk between you. Then you have to figure out what to do with this because omggggggg. I just love accidental confessions, I believe in you

𝐊𝐄𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 cinnamon roll word count ; (919) content warning ; (accidental confessions, study buddies, flustered tsukishima, best friend! yamaguchi)

Tsukishima Kei is an enigma of a man. He walks around the campus, wearing those stupid, muted blue headphones, eyes dead set on his destination. He doesn’t talk to anybody, doesn’t stop for the dozens of people searching for signatures for baby seals, doesn’t even acknowledge that other people also attend this university.

And then he gets to his Art History class and all of that nonchalant aura is washed away by the carefree smile on your face. He even smiles back at you.

“Hi, Tsukki!” You greet through a mouthful of food, moving your things from the seat designated for him. He sits down and you push a pink box towards him, wiggling your brows. “How’s your morning been? I brought an extra cinnamon roll just in case it was bad. But I also brought it ‘cause you’re my favorite person in the world.”

He looks at the box suspiciously, eyes narrowed, then looks up at you. You almost start to sweat under his gaze. Finally, he shakes his head and takes the box. “You forgot to do the homework, huh?”

You jut your bottom lip out, putting your chin in your hand, elbow on the desk. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” you pout. You pause, then let your head drop down to the desk with a groan. “I had a really busy night, I swear. I had work and then my roommate wanted to— okay, that’s not the point.” You look back up at him and give him your best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “Please give me the homework, Tsukki. I’m dangerously close to failing this class.”

You know and Tsukishima knows that ‘dangerously close to failing’ means that you’ve gotten one grade below a ninety percent and you definitely freaked out over it.

“Mhm, I’m sure.” He rolls his eyes, but pulls his laptop out to pull up the necessary items that you need for the homework. “You know, you could just ask me for help, rather than copying off of me all the time.” He turns the laptop towards you, answers pulled up on the screen.

You perk up at this, homework already long forgotten. Leaning towards him, you smile widely. “Are you serious, Tsukki? You’d be saving my life, probably.”

“Not your life, but your education, for sure.” 

Later that night, as you’re getting ready to meet Tsukishima at the library, you can’t help the buzz of excitement that runs along your skin. You don’t know why, but you’ve always felt a pull towards him. As soon as he sat down next to you on that first day of class, you knew he wasn’t just going to be that blonde kid from your Art History class.

Thankfully, the library isn’t too far from your dorm. It takes less than five minutes to get there. When you walk in, you’re as quiet as possible. You realized a long time ago that college kids and libraries don’t mix, so you try to go easy on the probably overworked librarians.

Today, Sheila is working. She gives you a smile and points to a corner of the library, where you see a blonde head of hair. He’s not facing towards you, so when the bright idea of scaring him pops into your head, you smile wickedly.

As you tiptoe towards him, you can hear him talking. His phone is up to his ear. Who makes a phone call in a dead silent library?

“No shit, Tadashi. Have you seen her ex-boyfriends? They’re, like, pure muscle. And they’re all tall.” He pauses, then scoffs. “Yeah, I know I’m tall. No, that’s not the point. I just—” he cuts himself off with a sigh. “I’m an asshole, right? Don’t answer that. I just mean that I’m not her type.”

You tilt your head curiously. You wonder who he’s talking about— you hope he’s talking about you. A knot of jealousy festers in your stomach.  Your smile falls and you take a step back. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Yeah, she’s on her way right now. No, Tadashi, I’m not going to ask her out. Why? Because I don’t have a humiliation kink, that’s why.”

You blink a couple times. You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up, spilling out of your mouth involuntarily. You smack a hand over your mouth just as Tsukishima whips his head around to look at you.

For a long, drawn out moment, you’re quiet.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Um, long enough?” You provide, shrugging with a smile. “I didn’t know the Tsukishima Kei could have a crush on someone.”

You can see his face get red. “That’s— I just— You’re—”

“Oh my goodness, relax,” you giggle out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I like you too. And, if you were to ask me out, I might just say yes.”

“I hate you.” He turns around and puts his head in his hands, groaning.

You skip around the table and sit across from him. “You like me. You like me so much it makes you dumb. You like me so much that you told your best friend.” You laugh again and lean forward, trying to catch his eyes. “Do you wanna go out with me, Tsukishima?”

His eyes dart to yours, brows furrowing. “You can’t ask me that. I’m supposed to ask you that.”

[seoafin]

do not say Home

pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader ; implied past f/f warnings/tags: referenced sexual assault and self harming behaviors; grief and mourning; established relationship word count: ~4.9k title taken from interstate by marie harris read on ao3

You think of her sometimes. A flash of silken red out of the corner of your eye, full lips painted ruby, the warmth of her smile tucked into your shoulder, real and heartbreaking. You see her in strangers that visit the library, seedy bars where the music is slightly discordant, a bit different from what you know, when you turn a street corner and an attractive woman meets your gaze, eyes softening just a little bit, just like hers did. You think, maybe she isn’t dead. She’s right there, just a heartbeat away: a new wig, contacts, heels, and those painted lips she swore has never given her away. A countenance that speaks to some new identity as a wealthy heiress. Again. She’s indulgent like that. Was. Is. You’ve trained in the art of espionage until all you could taste was salt behind your teeth, and blood in your throat. If there’s anyone that could fake their death—

She’s there. She’s alive. She managed to get away, and she’s come to get you. It’s not the first time she’s overcome the odds. She’ll do it again. She’ll never die. She belonged to the world, but you’ve always belonged to her. But her promises, they were yours. She promised, forehead pressed against yours, eyelashes brushing against your own, slow, measured breaths fanning against your face—

You are cold when you wake, and you are convinced the yawning ache in your chest has swallowed your heart until you press a hand to your chest, and memorize the steady thump. 

Someone shifts in bed next to you.

“Hey,” Dick murmurs, blinking slowly awake at your quiet panic. The concern is apparent in his gaze as he reaches out for you. “Everything okay?”

You let the warmth of his body wash over you as he pulls you close. A hand steadies itself on your bare lower back, and it scalds. Dick has always been good with tactile comfort, as foreign as it is to you. 

You close your eyes, trying to chase away the sensation of fingers brushing against your cheek. “Just a bad dream.” You try to ignore the worry emanating from him, now alert, and the slight furrow of his eyebrows as he takes you in. You don’t want to look at him, because looking at him makes you real. This life of normalcy you’ve carved out for yourself, in this world that is so much like and unlike your own, where the grief that lives in the hollow of your ribs can be neatly tucked away. You want it to hurt until you can’t breathe. You want to suffocate in it.

But you can be happy here, you tell yourself. You are happy here, you tell yourself, when Dick smiles at you, fingers slipping over your own.

You can almost see the questions working their way out of Dick’s throat when the alarm goes off. He immediately groans at the noise, pulling you into his arms and rolling on top of you, until you are swallowed up by him, and there is no more room for ghosts. 

“Don’t let me go,” he mutters into your ear. “Let’s stay in bed.”

You exhale. “Some of us have jobs.”

“Ouch,” he nips at your neck, and a heated shiver rolls down your spine as he turns a devastating grin on you. “I happen to be over-employed actually.”

You reach out to brush some of his tousled dark hair back, something wrenching at your chest when Dick leans into the cradle of your palm. Despite finding it difficult to breathe, you plaster a wry smile on your lips and lean in close. You hear his breath hitch. You’ve always been good at pretending.

“Moonlighting as a vigilante doesn’t count,” you whisper against his lips, pressing close to him, just enough for a firm, chaste kiss.

Then you push him off you. 

He squawks into the duvet as you rise to get ready for work. “Sexy,” he mutters, “ Sexy vigilante.”

You are a legal, law abiding citizen of Bludhaven. To Dick, a librarian from the wrong side of the tracks. Not a criminal, and definitely not a hero. This is the normalcy you’ve always wanted, away from everything you’ve ever known and loved. 

“Don’t forget,” Dick calls out from the bathroom as you stick two pieces of bread into the heated toaster, and contemplate sticking your hand in just to feel the skin blister, “Picking you up at 5!”

Right. You pull yourself away. “Should I be worried?” You tease gently. “Is there a contingency plan?”

Dick wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your neck, and resting his chin on your shoulder. You lean into him, reveling in the scent of aftershave and the mint off his breath. You want to suck the flavor off his tongue, press him down, and—

“Should I be offended?” He says jovially, “I am perfectly capable of planning a date. Prepare to be wowed.”

“Will do.” You can’t help but press a kiss to his jaw. “See you later?”

He turns to you, fitted in his uniform, gaze soft as he takes you in once more. Enamored, the other ladies at the library titter when Dick strolls in, whistling, a cup of coffee in hand, exactly the way you like it. A gentleman , they sigh, when Dick appears to walk you home to the apartment that is more his than yours because old habits die hard and laying roots in a single place goes against the very essence of your being. He doesn’t know about the apartment you keep in Tail’s End, under a different name. And so hot, they think, when they crowd him and innocently ask him what attracted him to the unsmiling, distant librarian who rejected every social gathering to go home.

At first that was all it was. You knew you would appeal to people more if you were attached to another. You didn't want to make friends, but you didn't want to be disagreeable either. With a relationship, you had an excuse to go home and avoid outings. Objectively, being in a relationship made you more palatable. Your standoffish behavior reframed as a girl in love. How easy it is manage the perceptions of others with a little nudge. 

So you had said yes to the police officer who came in searching for Pride and Prejudice. 

By the end of your first date, you witnessed 1) a fire 2) a crying child 3) Dick juggling for said crying child and buying her an ice cream sundae moments later. He sent you a flash of that disarming smile, one that gave your heart a lurch for the first time in a long, long, time, and you thought, maybe, a second date wouldn't be the worst decision you've ever made.

He kisses you, lips searing like a brand. Then exhales. “Later.”

He winks, waving a piece of toast in the air, and then he’s gone. 

—

Do you have any idea, Veronica had started, as soon as Old Betty stalked off to the bathroom with a warning glare in your direction, who that police officer who comes in all the time to check you out is?

You glanced at the glossy magazine cover she had pulled on top of the pile of books you had been scanning. 

Bruce Wayne’s Bahama affair!PAGE 23 EXCLUSIVE : All about the swimsuit model sighted with the playboy billionaire!

She continued, undeterred by your silence. That delicious man happens to be Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s ward.

You stared at her, and Veronica had stared back, befuddled.

Bruce Wayne? Billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises? She frowned. In Gotham? Joker? Batman?

You cleared your throat. Who is Batman?

—

"I didn’t realize this was going to be an overnight trip.”

Dick looks sheepish, keeping his eyes on the road as highway gives way to the tall, shadowy skyscrapers of Gotham. “I was thinking we could stay overnight at the manor. Take our time back since it’s the weekend. I packed for you.”

You stare out the window, imagining the lit up skyline of the city Dick had called home as a boy, wondering if you have it in you to fool Bruce Wayne once more, knowing that it still comes easily to you as a pirouette. You can be anybody you want, and you are good at it. The best. You have more in common with Bruce Wayne than you’d like to think. And when he gives you a genial smile that verges on flirtatious as he goes to shake your hand, the lax lines of his shoulder will give him away as trained in a mistake you’d never make. What a lot of people don’t know, is that you have to give yourself fully to the performance. It is life or death. You cannot pretend, you must be. You are. And the best way to build an identity is to raze it all down and start anew. Every single time and leave nothing behind. You were trained to be naught but a moldable vessel. There is no need to raze it all down if there is nothing there to begin with.

Bruce Wayne will never be able to give himself to the performance. He is not a performer, not a true one. There is too much behind his gaze, too much pain, horror, grief. There is no separation or distance. It is with him always, simmering just beneath the surface.

Sometimes, when you close your eyes you can feel the heat of the spotlight. There is blood on your tongue and lipstick between your teeth, and maybe you are sweating, crying, or bleeding, or some combination of all three. You drown in the heat as the music crescendos, right before cold fingers tear your leotard off of your shoulders and hands pin you down like an immobile butterfly.

“If Bruce is willing to have me,” you finally say. “Then why not.”

Dick chuckles at that. “Everyone knows Alfred calls the shot when it comes to the manor.”

“Of course,” you say dryly. “If Alfred is willing to have me.”

He glances at you, all warmth and amusement and a genuine fondness that makes your throat close up. You’ll never be used to the overt affection in every look and touch that Dick gives you. So freely, you always think. It’s a gift you treasure. You collect these smiles, and tuck them away. “He’ll be delighted to see you again. I had to talk him out of decorating the manor, but cooking a feast, now that’s a non negotiable. You’re the guest of honor.”

Nobody had thought you to be a permanent fixture in Dick’s life, least of all yourself. Then one month had become four, and four had become a year and a half. You had met Damian, Bruce, and then Tim. You know there are more, like Jason, but Dick doesn’t like to talk about him.

You study him, evening shadows transforming his face as he navigates downtown Gotham traffic, impatiently tapping on the steering wheel. 

“You miss them.” You aren’t completely ignorant of Robin’s occasional drop in’s in Bludhaven, but Damian has also made his disdain for you quite clear. Which is why you try your best to stay steer clear when Damian is in town. Besides, it does you well to spend time alone, in a apartment that belongs only to you. Just like it does Dick well to spend one on one time with Damian.

Dick softens, despite his fingers tightening on the wheel. “It’s been a while. I just worry about them, you know?” There’s too much to unpack in that statement, so you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek just as Dick pulls into the wide driveway leading to the manor.

Alfred is already in the front. He ushers the two of you in, taking your coat before you can even blink. Then Dick is wrapping his arms around the man. Alfred pats him on the back with a fond smile, and says, “Master Richard, I’ve prepared your old room.”

“Thanks Alfred,” Dick murmurs. "And Bruce?"

"A pressing last minute engagement."

You are inwardly relieved.

The butler turns to you with a greeting. “It’s a delight to see you again.” He even means it. “I do hope you find your stay enjoyable. Now, I must check on the roast, but Master Damian should be back soon.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “School’s been out for three hours.”

“Master Damian has decided to partake in extracurriculars.”

The eyebrow raises impossibly higher. “Damian? Joined a club?” Dick looks delighted, and you can’t help but share in his joy. “God,” he runs a hand through his hair, “He’s growing up isn’t he?”

There’s a twinkle in Alfred’s eye. “Indeed.”

Then Dick is gently taking your arm, fingers curling around yours, and giving you a tour of the lavish rooms and gilded hallways tastefully decorated with art and portraits that would put the more ostentatious displays of wealth you’ve seen in your lifetime to shame. He points out various crooks and nannies, hidden alcoves where he used to hide when the grief of losing his parents was too strong to comprehend, and regales you with tales of Bruce letting him eat nothing but potato chips for five days straight until Alfred had demanded Dick eat a proper meal. With vegetables.

You listen and observe, trying to picture the man next to you as a small boy, bouncing through these corridors with a grin splitting his face, exuberant and alive. You find the image charming.

“I used to hide in that chandelier,” Dick murmurs into your ear as you gaze at a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “Alfred had to call the calvary when I refused to come down.” 

“Bruce?”

“Bruce.” He grins. “He always says I took twenty years off his life that day, swinging up there like a monkey.”

“I believe it,” you exhale with a laugh at the imagery. Something in your chest turns at the boy that he must have been. 

There’s a silence. 

“You know, you don’t really like to talk about yourself.” An uncharacteristic hesitation flits across his face for a brief second, before resolve quickly replaces it. “Or your past.”

“There’s nothing much to talk about,” you say gently, consolingly. “I had parents, and they died. I grew up alone.” No, not alone. You shove down the deluge of memories threatening to escape, shove it down until the ache is barely bearable.

His face falls, and you can’t help but feel you’ve let him down somehow. You just don’t think you can. It’s nonsensical at best, asylum seeking at worst. Sometimes, you think you imagined all of it, but you know better. How do you even begin to start talking about your arrival? That you had a life, and while you were never a hero, you did your best. How do you even begin to formulate the words that there was someone whose body you knew as intimately as your own, that inexplicable feeling of a synchronization during a pas de deux so uniform it was intimate, someone whose blood you licked off your knuckles, just to taste it against her lips. Someone, who is buried, somewhere far, far away. There are no words. Not anymore. She took them all with her when she died.

A previous life, that’s what it is. 

“Then,” you say slowly. “I met you.”

Dick stares at you as if fathoming out a puzzle. He is, you think, not going to be allayed by your lies much longer and you find comfort in the fact that he does not love you. That Dick finds the vulnerability that accompanies love as difficult as you do. Dick is too smart, too loving, too curious to not want to pick you apart with hands that are gentle in their suffocation, but he’s also somewhat of a hypocrite. You shouldn't find it as endearing as you do. Sometimes when you catch him looking at you, you feel like he wants to flay you open and keep your secrets for himself, with an intensity that sends a prickle down your spine.

In a way he can’t help it you suppose. He grew up with the ultimate jigsaw puzzle as a parent figure. A puzzle he’s been trained to solve, but has yet to put together because Bruce Wayne is an unfathomable, omniscient presence in the lives of the children he raised and didn’t, a voice in the dark that both guides and chokes.

But for now the suspicion in his eyes fade, back to the recesses of his mind where it can be dissected another day as Dick takes your face between his hands, and kisses you soundly, if not desperately.

—

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

Dick grins, looking handsome in a tux that fits him to perfection as the two of you drive into a neighborhood with cleaner streets and urban apartments. “I can tell you it’s a secret. I can also tell you we’ll be there in five.”

You hum. “Say the word and we can still go to Bat Burger.”  

He makes an offended noise. “I have a bit more class than Bat Burger. I’d at least take you to a diner.”

“And they say romance is dead.” But that’s all that leaves your lips because Dick pulls up to a grand white building with marble columns, large painted glass windows, and a long stairway leading to the entrance. There are banners fitted to the columns: THE METROPOLITAN BALLET.

You force your gaze away and force yourself to measure the beat of your heart until it goes steady. He couldn’t have. He doesn’t…

Dick is already stepping out and passing the keys to a valet with a beaming face as cameras flash in his direction. This is Dick Grayson in Gotham, prodigal eldest son of the city’s beloved Bruce Wayne. You close your eyes, collect yourself, and step out. Dick easily winds an arm around the waist of your black slinky dress, and the two of you walk up, while you discreetly ensure difficult camera angles shield your face. Luckily, it’s not you they’re interested in. Just one of many pretty birds on the arm of a Wayne boy.

“Surprise!” Dick says, gesturing to the building with a nod as the excitement builds on his face. “You haven’t met my little sister Cassandra yet, but she’s a dancer. Ballet. And she’s amazing.” He rambles on about how tonight is Cassandra’s first ever public performance and how upset Bruce is to have to miss it because of a business trip (ie: off planet mission with the league) and how he’s going to take all the pictures like the doting eldest brother he is just to rub them in Bruce’s face later.

“She’s going to love you,” Dick says in genuine happy belief when the two of you enter the lavish lobby. He takes your silence as nerves. He’s not wrong. You feel brittle and pathetic in that even a mere shadow of lace and tulle might cripple you. It doesn’t need to, you think. A few moments in the bathroom, and in the time it takes you to reapply your lipstick you can be someone deserving of a man who looks at you like you’re worth something. You don’t have to be a walking, aching tragedy.

But a part of you—

You don’t want to be someone else. Not when you’re with Dick. 

You gently extricate yourself from him. “Bathroom,” you say lightly. “I’ll meet you inside?” You glanced at the tickets earlier: front row seats. 

Dick gives you that look, that weighted stare combined with the stubborn set of his jaw that makes you think he might stop you. Are you alright? You can almost hear him ask. You’ve been off since this morning . He nods, fingers curling into his palm in your absence. “Okay. I’ll find you.” It sounds like a promise. You reluctantly let go of his hand, and as soon as you walk away, six socialites take your place.

You wind up the stairs to use the bathroom on the top floor in hopes that it'll be more secluded. You count each step, you count your breaths, you count each note in Bach’s Orgelbüchlein currently playing overhead. You realize you neglected to ask Dick what performance was playing. The Nutcracker? Le Sacre du printemps? Don Quixote? Or did you? It's all a blur.

The running tap begins to steam. Without a second thought you stick your left hand into the scalding water until your skin turns an angry color. You focus on the pain flooding your nerves, and the ensuing numbing sensation. Then you switch the tap off, pointedly avoiding your reflection. It’s just a show. 

It’s just a show.

The show is just starting when you run into Dick at the entrance to the theatre.

“Get lost on the way?” He jokes. “I was just about to look for you.”

Mouth dry, you manage a smile. “Something like that.”

“C’mon. Tim and Damian are already seated.” You make sure Dick takes your right hand as he leads you into the dark. Tim raises a hand at your arrival, rolling his eyes when Damian gives you a pointed sniff and crosses his arms.

In the dark, Dick’s voice ghosts over your ear. “Swan Lake.” 

The curtains are red, you note, distinctly ill, as they slide open. 

It’s easy to discern Cassandra Cain, front and center. She is dark haired, lithe, and beautiful as she expertly executes a grand pirouette on the stage as if she was meant for it. She’s good. Every single movement is refined to perfection to the extent that it almost looks uncanny, as if you’re watching through an altered projection. Objectively there are no flaws in every arabesque, allegro, or fouetté turn. You know this dance intimately, as both Odette and Odile. 

You feel the spotlight once more. But this time, bile rises in your throat. You distantly wonder if Dick can feel the heat radiating from your skin, because it feels like you are boiling alive under the strength of a thousand suns. The music crescendos, and to your ears it sounds cacophonous. Dissonant in a way that demands you to balance straight ( straighter ), to point your broken toes at an angle that makes you swallow back blood, to force the dislocated joints in your arms above your head. And hold—

Cool fingers flit over your thighs, before resting above your tights. A burst of fear shoots through you, and then: resignation.

You squeeze your left hand tight, until the sore skin around your knuckles are on the verge of splitting open. Under the guise of fixing the strap of your shoe, you sink your nails into the flesh of your ankle until blood sinks into the dark fabric. You mentally apologize to Alfred. You’ll ask Dick to take the dress back to Bludhaven just so you can wash it without drawing suspicion. 

Exhaling, you absentmindedly look to Dick, to find him already looking at you with an amalgamation of affection and worry. You wonder how it feels, to wear the emotions you feel on your face, to let yourself plainly feel them. Dick feels. He cares. You wonder how he hasn’t drowned yet. 

He’s beautiful, and right now, he is yours. You already know you’ll never find another person like him. In a way it makes sense. All these memories resurfacing, this wave of unrelenting grief. Maybe you’re already mourning what will be lost. What it means to not be cold and bereft and lonely. 

You reach for the warmth of Dick’s hand, and squeeze. The audience erupts in the applause around you, but you can’t quite tear your gaze away from him.

—

Tim and Damian hand Cassandra a comically large bouquet as they congratulate her on a job well done. But then a blonde haired girl with an even larger bouquet appears, slinging her arms around Cassandra. You turn to Dick. Another one?

Dick grins. His hand hasn’t left your waist since the four of you got up. You wonder if he might be trying to make a point. 

There are things you notice about Cassandra up close, the first being that she is a trained killer, the second being that trying to kill her would be quite difficult. It’s impossible to turn off: that voice in your head that tells you to observe, to plan, to escape. You swallow, distantly hearing Dick introduce you to both Cassandra and Stephanie. It feels like you’ve been submerged underwater, but if there’s one thing you know how to do, it's smile.

“32 Fouette turns isn’t easy,” you add to the conversation, with a small smile before your silence becomes suspicious. “I’m sure you’ll be Prima soon.” If she isn’t already.

Cassandra looks at you, discerning in a way her brothers have learned how to hide. You wonder how well she sees through you. You’ve heard bits here and there, and for all the people you’ve met, you’ve never quite met anyone who could read body movement to the extent of clairvoyance.

Her gaze is unnerving. “Are you…a dancer too?”

You blink, blood running cold as everyone turns to look at you. “Oh,” you say with a laugh, instantly defaulting into plausible denial. Is that what she sees? A fellow ballerina? Maybe in the end that’s who you are, stripped of everything else. Every name, every smile, every kiss, every lie. Away from the bite of cold steel, the finger on the trigger, and the immeasurable horrors of your youth. You are a small girl in a leotard and everything hurts but you have to move, faster, faster, faster, teetering like a spinning top about to blitz off a table. Spinning, spinning, spinning before everything collapses, a comet hurtling towards earth, destroying everything in its fiery wake. You are a bullet, a finely honed blade, spread thighs, gardening shears snipping away the rot.

You are a tool, and tools are meant to be used. 

The sentiment brings you more comfort than it should.

“No, not me.” The more you lie, the easier it becomes. You can feel every minute change in you as all the apprehension and worries begin to ebb away, becoming vaguer, until it becomes one indistinct picture, and that streak of red hair you once loved becomes so faint it could be the memory of snow and the swift darting of a fox, its pelt gleaming in the sun.

These are the immutable facts: you are a legal, law abiding, citizen of Bludhaven. A librarian. You are alone. You were alone. You are alone. 

It's Cassandra’s turn to blink. “Your…” she makes a gesture with her hand as she grasps for the words. “Posture. Movements.” She hums. “Ballet.”

“A little,” you acquiesce after a pause, as if you’re embarrassed. People are always more inclined to disregard little things in the face of overt discomfort and embarrassment. “Just a little. When I was young. Nowhere near your level,” you’re scared at how easy it comes to you still, terrified at the way Dick has stilled next to you, the way he is looking at you like you are someone he doesn't know. And well, that's the truth isn't it? “You were wonderful, by the way.”

Cassandra takes your compliment too modestly. 

You let conversation flow over you, piping in when acceptable while Dick quips about this and that, fondly mussing both Tim and Damian’s hair. Dick is emotive and sensitive, and loves with such unadulterated joy, you often forget.

Dick is good at pretending too.

—

There are more things that happen that night. Alfred’s roast is even more delicious when eaten in the dining room with a nearly full table of people. You meet Barbara who is as smart as she is beautiful. Tim and Damian end up tussling over an ill timed quip about fratricide, and Dick ends up having to yank Damian away from the silverware before any bodily harm is done.

Dick holds you that night, and you listen to the gentle beat of his heart in silence in a room that used to be his, in a house that used to be home.

“Sometimes,” Dick says conversationally, staring at the faded stick on glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to the ceiling, “I think you might fall apart if I hold you too tightly.” 

If there is anything to say, you are glad it is just this. You can’t tell much from his voice. You find it difficult to look at him. And yet, he had still opened his arms to you, and you had still curled up in them. 

There’s more, of course. But there’s a logic to this. In the quiet of the night, in the glow of the moonlight, some things are better left unvoiced. Right now, you listen to Dick’s steady breaths, and try to match his heartbeat to yours. 

“I’m right here,” you say into his bare chest.

There’s a wretched, pained humor in his voice. “Are you?”

You tip your chin up to look into those piercing blue eyes. Those sad, blue eyes. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t love. 

A hand cradles your face. “Who are you?”

There are so many things you could say, but you’re tired. In the end, these ghosts are all yours. 

In the sparse light, you can see yourself, reflected in Dick’s eyes. You’re not sure who or what he sees. So in the end, you settle on what you can. Whoever you are—

“You have me.”

For what it’s worth, you think. For what it’s worth.

if you want to spoil context: my a/n on ao3

[heartless-tate]

High lady. | High Lord Eris X F reader

Summary: You used to love Eris- and now that’s all in the past. Or you at least that’s what you think. Until you receive an invitation to a dance from the high lord- Eris.

A/N: Hellooo my fireflies! I’ve been thirsting for Eris these past few weeks so why not write for him? I can’t believe I ever didn’t like this man 😫. Also for my male readers out there, if you’d like me to rewrite this or any of my other fics with a male reader, just ask! 💕

3k words

warnings: cussing, allusions to sex, use of y/n, slight angst, she/her pronouns

There were no words to describe your shock at seeing the royal invite to the ball. You weren’t high fae. You were a simple, low class librarian. Your name was written in beautiful, classy cursive. A handwriting you recognized immediately. This was handwritten by Eris. Eris Vanserra. Memories flooded your mind.

Running through the gardens, dogs barking behind you playfully. You didn’t have time to react before a body landed on you. Eris. He tackled you to the dirt, his hand was cradling your head to prevent it banging against the floor as he straddled your back. His hounds crowded the two of you, stomping and making noises with excitement.

“Got you little fox!” Eris announced, hugging you from behind.

“Not fair! You said you’d give me a head start.” You pouted. Eris’s laughter filled the air, creating a warm atmosphere. His arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into a hug. His embrace was warm and comforting in the cool autumn air.

Cauldron. That was so long ago. Eris was older by you than a long shot, but at that time, you were young. Nineteen years old. Young and innocent. He was also slightly more innocent then, playing with you and entertaining your young soul. Your face flushed a slight shade of pink, and you shook your head. You remember your crush on him. How could you not have one though? Everyone warned you. And you didn’t listen. He was everything a girl at that age would’ve wanted. Beautiful, handsome, smart, experienced, and a prince.

It was only when you discovered Eris was to be betrothed to some high fae daughter in his father’s court, did your little world come crashing down with reality. You were a peasant compared to him. And he likely saw you as nothing but entertainment. So you distanced yourself. You stopped accepting his invites to dinner with his family, you didn’t go out with him anymore. Of course, you couldn’t bear to completely cut him off. So you still would accept his occasional invite to walk with him in the forests with his hounds. He always told you they missed you. Now days, the walks were somewhat awkward. They happened every few months.

The last one was 6 months ago. You always thought you were doing better, you worked at a library, and cared for precious books. You lived in a relatively small apartment, but it was okay. You were grateful, you had a roof on your head and food on your plate. Things had changed since your last walk with him.

Beron was dead. On Eris’s wedding night, before the marriage had been officiated he had dueled Beron to a battle of death. Hundreds at the wedding had witnessed as Eris brutally slayed his father, and placed the crown on his head. Declaring himself as high lord. He released himself of the marriage, and granted his fiancé permission to marry her true lover. When the news escaped to the streets and you heard, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You realized, Eris would be to busy with his court to come on walks with you anymore. And that made you realize that your feelings weren’t gone. You had never gotten over him.

Tonight was a royal ball. You remembered Eris had always begged his father to let you attend the dances and balls, but Beron always refused. Saying trash like you should never be seen with royalty. Eris, stayed by your side though. He’d sneak from the dances and find you, and would dance in the silent night with you. And you had no idea why Eris was inviting you to this ball. Was it pity? Did he want you to experience something nice once in your life? What would you even wear? You certainly didn’t have royal attire.

You ripped open the letter with your nails, admiring the wax seal of a little fox on it. You opened it to a small card inside. Eris’s handwriting.

Little fox,

I’d be honored for you to attend the royal autumn ball tonight with me. A carriage will wait for you at your apartment at noon. Don’t neglect my dogs of your attention any longer.

Love, Eris.

You giggled. You felt like a school girl. You could feel the heat on your face. You admired his familiar handwriting. It was neat and lovely in every sense. A dried viola fell into your lap when you opened the card further. Memories of him teaching you cursive in the gardens made you smile. You stood, grasping the flower, and pulled out the small box you kept of every letter he had ever sent you. Whenever Beron would try to restrict him from seeing you, it didn’t stop him from convincing his maids or servants to get his letters to you. You hadn’t received a letter since his last request to walk with you. The box was filled with the dried flowers he’d always sent with them.

How could you go? What would you wear? You approached your closet. And then you remembered something.

“Eris- I can’t wear this. This is too- too, royal.” You squeaked, admiring the beautiful dress he had just gifted you.

“Wear it. It matches the suit my father made me wear. Let’s dance, little fox.” He purred, pushing hair out of your face. Once the dress was on, he pulled you close to him in the empty streets on the Autumn Court and guided you in a slow dance, uncaring of the lack of music. Or the fact he was missing a royal ball.

You didn’t waste time in finding the box tucked away safely under your bed, and pulling it out. You opened the box, staring at the gorgeous forgotten dress. You had only worn it the last night he had danced with you.

This would work. Looks like all the dances you learned from books would pay off tonight.

Music from the orchestra blasted loudly. You entered the throne room, slightly late. But nobody cared. You were fashionably late- you had to find a mask. It was a masquerade after all. And Eris’s letter was a little bit close to time so, nobody could blame you. People danced in sync all over the room, dresses of different colors swaying. It was so fascinating. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Sure, most of these people were stuck up cunts, but they were beautiful, and they knew it too. You walked down the the grand stair case, eyes greedily taking in everything.

And then they caught on him. He sat on the throne, auburn hair messy as if he had ran his hands through it more then once tonight. The crown on his head was slightly crooked, giving him an uncaring look as high fae of all kinds greeted him. His mask was the color of burning fire, gold lace trimming it. He seemed bored, uninterested in this whole party. And he looked every bit of the High Lord you knew he would be.

You didn’t have the guts to greet him. You couldn’t. He had invited you out of perhaps pity. There were clear boundaries you were sure of. And you knew approaching the high lord as a peasant would break every single one of those boundaries. You could already see high fae turning their noses up at you as you walked by.

You approached the giant banquet table, observing the various foods. They were all favorites of yours. Maybe you just had a fancy food taste. You grabbed a glass of fae wine off of a servant’s tray, happy to indulge yourself in high quality wine that you didn’t have to pay for. You decided to eat after you danced.

You turned to face the dance floor. You watched the first waltz come to an ends, couples departing to find new partners. You swirled your wine in your glass, smelled it and then took a taste. It was glorious. Aged, and woodsy. You figured the bottle was easily in the three hundreds. Who cared? You didn’t have to pay for it. You snickered to yourself.

“Dance with me?” A coy voice purred beside you.

You turned, seeing a gentle around your age. High fae. And he was still asking to dance. Odd. His mask was black with silver lace. He wore a simple black tux. His hair was a dark brown, slicked with gel. He had a warm smile. He was handsome. You took his outstretched hand.

“Why not?” You replied, setting your wine glass down on a servant’s tray. The male smirked with arrogance, and swooped you to the dance floor. Music begun, and he started the dance.

“I’m Silas.” He murmured, twirling you. You nodded, having no problem in keeping up with the complex strides of this particular dance.

“Y/n” You responded. His eyes glinted.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you.” Silas said. He started to move faster, as if seeing how well you could keep up. And you did. Having no trouble at all.

You smiled warmly. This man was nice. You could see yourself with him. But it felt like something was missing. Like a hole in your heart.

“Thank you, Silas.” You purred back, starting to lead the dance. You guided it into a more complex rhythm, going along with the music, but ultimately making it more difficult. You giggled when he tripped over his own foot but caught himself. He glared at you.

“You dance awfully good for a commoner.” He huffed out, twirling you again.

“Having trouble keeping up?” You taunted playfully, not caring of his snarky remark. He was embarrassed. You could tell by how his eyes were roaming the people that had take to watch the both of you dance, interested in seeing how long you could rule the dance floor, he was embarrassed. Your eyes roamed the people. You could feel a familiar sense of someone watching. Your eyes found Eris. He was no longer listening to the fae beside him. His amber eyes bored into you. When you caught eye contact, he smirked. His legs spread as he leaned further into his throne. His eyebrow was cocked, his long talons tapping against the throne.

Cauldron. You had forgot how breathtakingly gorgeous he was. And sexy. You felt your face flush.

A snarl distracted you from him. Silas’s hands clutched your hips.

“Do not mock me.” He growled quietly in your ear. The music’s rhythm went faster, and the dance along with it. The curious fae quickly started dancing again, embarrassed at how they were so mesmerized by a commoner.

You went to take another step, but Silas went crashing to the floor. You watched in shock as he slid on the floor, his eyes wide with fury and embarrassment. His face heated with embarrassment. He looked up at you mouth open as if he was about to blame you, but his eyes caught on something behind you. Or rather, someone.

You turned slowly to see the high lord standing in his full glory behind you. His sharp cunning eyes squinted and mouth pulled into a smirk. He observed the male on the floor before looking at the people around you both. Then his eyes landed on you. You were awestruck by him for a minute- before you realized he was royalty. You started to bow but an invisible force stopped you. Your eyes narrowed in confusion before Eris bowed in front of you.

The High Lord just bowed in front of you. You. A peasant. Before you could say anything he lifted his hand to you.

“Grant me the pleasure of a dance?” He said, loud and clear. Gods you missed his voice. Yours ears picked up multiple gasps of shock. You heard a start of a growl before seeing Eris’s eyes glare into Silas behind you. You heard Silas scrambling away, knowing his place. Eris’s eyes turned back to you. He stayed in a bowed down position, hand waiting for yours. You swallows your shock. So be it. This very much may be the last dance you and him share, and you would take it.

Eris smiled softly when he felt the familiar embrace of your hand on his. His hand wrapped around yours, completely swallowing it. You hadn’t even realized the music had stopped until now. He motioned with his free hand for it to begin again. Fae around you scampered to start dancing, but all of their eyes were on you. On him. And his eyes were on you. And that’s all that mattered.

His free hand moved to your hip, grasping it gently with respect. He slowly moved to start the dance, holding you close. You didn’t know what to say or do other than to follow his lead. You didn’t even realize your mouth was gaping open.

“Little fox, you look like a fish gasping for air.” Eris teased in your ear, and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Sorry-“

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me.” He replied, smoothly. Gods. It was as if you were 19 again and you were dancing in the empty village with him. His long nails drew circles on your hip as you slowly started ti advance in the pace of the music. He kept up with ease, and you the same.

“Your hounds miss you.” Eris murmured, leaning his head down enough to kiss your forehead. It took every ounce of self control to not accidentally trip in shock.

“My hounds? They’re not mine. They’re yours!“ You started.

“Yes, they are, little fox. You helped me save and raise Sadie’s pups. If it wasn’t for you most of them would’ve died during birth. They are every bit of yours as they are mine.” He responded, pulling you closer. You knew better then to continue this fight with him. He was stubborn. And you knew if you tried to refuse again you’d probably have a pack of hounds at your apartment door tomorrow- out of spite.

“Whatever.” You grumbled defeatedly, shaking your head. He chuckled. His laugh was deeper now. You could smell the envy of other women around you. You wondered if they knew there wasn’t anything to be jealous of.

“So..how’s being High Lord?” You asked, unsure of what to talk about now. Eris frowned with a playful pout.

“Lonely. I’m sure the hounds would agree too. But don’t worry about that. That’ll change very, very soon.”

You weren’t quite sure what Eris was getting on to now. He always spoke in riddles. You sighed. Before you could re-question him, he started talking again.

“How has my little fox been?” Eris divulged.

You blushed. He had always had a knack for that dumb nickname. You were glad people couldn’t hear your conversation. The current dance came to an end and Eris wasted no time in pulling you into another. He knew you would have no problems keeping up.

“I’ve been good.” You responded. You looked up at him. He had gotten taller. And bigger. Maybe it was the high lord magic that transferred to him after Beron died or something. You weren’t sure. But he towered over you, creating a comical size difference. He gave you a toothy playful smile. He was always so carefree around you. You loved it. You loved him.

“You look lovely in that dress.”

“You bought it.” You quipped back at him.

“I have such good taste don't I?” He countered.

You couldn’t help but giggled looking away. The music slowed and you knew this was coming to an end. And gods you didn’t want it to end. His eyes softened as if he too was thinking the same. He grasped you tighter, pulling you closer, your bodies left no space between each others. He leaned down and inhaled your scent.

“Gods. I missed you. I missed your scent. The way you laugh. Talking with you- I missed it all.” Eris started. He held you tighter when you tried to pull away, confused.

“Don’t move away. Let me enjoy this Y/n.” He whispered, head going to the crook of your neck as he slowed the dance, moving with rhythm to the orchestra’s music. You realized how desperate and clingy his hood on you seemed now. As if he had missed you as much as you missed him.

Fuck boundaries. You couldn’t care if you were a peasant compared to him right now. You let your inner thoughts win as you tightly clutched at him. You didn’t wanna let go of him. You let your head lean against his chest, relaxing into the calm and slow dance. You knew fae were gawking at you both. And neither of you cared. Eris seemed shocked at your return of his embrace. The music slowed to a stop, and so did you both in the middle of the floor. Eris gently pulled away, staring at you with such adoring eyes. A sharp contrast to who he was in front of these people. His eyes found their way to your lips. He looked back up at you, a pleading look on his face. You understood what he wanted.

His hand clutched at the back of your head as your lips met. His were soft. It was the most gentle and loving kiss. You couldn’t give a flying fuck about the jealous and envious fae. Not just women. Both males and females snickering in jealousy. Eris pulled away, eyes soft. He took in the sight of you.

He didn’t waste time in pulling you in for a second kiss. This one wasn’t gentle. It was hot. Aggressive. He kissed you as if there was a fire in his bones and you were the only thing that could sooth it. His teeth gently nipped and sucked on your bottom lip. You returned it. His hand clutched at the back of your head, talons tangled in your hair. His other one clutched at your hip and roamed to your lower back. Your hands clutched at the front of his dress shirt. When you pulled away gasping for air, Eris had the biggest smile on his face. His eyes roamed your face again. You lips were swollen and pink from him. You were panting and looking at him as if he was everything. And he returned the same look. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw.

“Don’t make me miss you anymore. Stay with me. I’ll give you everything you could dream of. You can be my high lady. Anything- anything you want.” He begged, eyes pleading. You knew he wasn’t lying.

“Eris..”

Eris swear his heart stopped with the way you said his name. He’s positive he would die right here on this floor at your knees if you rejected him. You were all he ever wanted.

“You’re everything I could dream of.” You whispered to him. Eris took in a gasp of air, not realizing he had been holding it. Relief flooding his body. And then pure love. He grabbed your hand before you could say anything and guided you up the stairs the the throne. He turned, facing the crowd with you. His hand placed on your lower back.

The whole crowd of fae stared in confusion and shock. No idea of what was about to happen.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Eris barked. “Show some respect to your high lady.”

His voice boomed across the room, gasps eliciting from the crowd. And then, they all bowed. You stood in front of the throne, watching as they all bowed to their knees. The scent of fear and confusion flooded from the fae.

Eris smirked before turning around back to you. He knew that despite your anxieties, you were made for this. Just your presence demanded attention from others. He knew you were his. His eyes shined with pure male pride as he removed the autumn court crown from his head, and gently placed it on yours. You watched as he bowed down on his knee, paying respect to you. His queen. You relaxed. Hundreds of high fae all bowed down to you. Your man bowed down to you. You tipped your head up with a smirk.

Eris grasped your hand and kissed your ring finger with a possessive glare at it. As if promising himself it would soon have a ring around it. He stood, and walked you to the throne. He held your hand as you sat down on it, crossing your legs. He stood beside you, eyes peering to the fae. He looked to you. Gods you were gorgeous. He couldn’t help the possessiveness in him that filled to the brim at seeing you where you finally belonged. He had waited so long to be able to do this.

“The masquerade is over. Get out.” He growled to the people, his eyes never leaving you. He didn’t bother turning around to ensure the people left. He could hear them rushing to get out.

He was gonna fuck you on your rightful throne.

[annepi-blog]

Save Dead Boy Detectives

Hey friends,

I’m hoping you can spare a minute to help out. Please take a second to sign the petition at the end of this post to help save Dead Boy Detectives!

Now, you might be thinking, “Why should I care? I didn’t even watch it.”

Well, this isn't just about one show. Dead Boy Detectives is far from the first series Netflix has canceled, and we’re especially frustrated because this is part of a growing trend. LGBTQ+ inclusive series like this one are often axed after just one or two seasons, leaving fans heartbroken and hesitant to start new shows in the future. It’s become a sort of “throwaway culture” where unique, diverse stories just… disappear. And that’s honestly so disheartening for those of us who connect with these characters.

Fans are especially angry because Dead Boy Detectives is highly praised by both audiences and critics. The viewership numbers were solid and comparable to first seasons of shows like Emily in Paris or Heartstopper, which are now going into their third or fourth seasons. So it’s hard to understand why this show is being cut when it clearly resonated with people and had the potential to go the distance.

That’s why it would mean so much if you showed a little solidarity and stood against this trend with us.

And of course, it would be amazing if you gave the show a chance. Even though a second season may not happen, the storylines in season one are mostly wrapped up, so you can still enjoy the ride without feeling like you’re left hanging.

One of the best parts of Dead Boy Detectives is how diverse the cast is. For once, 3 of the 4 main characters aren’t white, and this level of representation has meant the world to many fans. There is also a high proportion of badass women in the series.

Plus, the story is packed with important themes like abuse, bullying, grief, finding and accepting yourself, and of course, the beauty of found family and friendship. Wrapped up in horror, detective stories, and genuine comedy-drama, Dead Boy Detectives strikes a balance that makes it both fun and heartfelt.

And the LGBTQIA+ representation! We've got a canonical gay Edwardian ghost, a gay human-crow familiar, a lesbian butcher, a sapphic librarian, and even a pansexual shape-shifting cat king.

So please, sign the petition, and maybe check out the show. It would mean the world to all of us in the fandom.

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ xoxo, gossip girl!

content: leo valdez x reader, percy jackson x reader, jason grace x reader

╰┈▸ back cover: how would gossip sessions with them go?

warnings: cursing, rude humor??

librarian's annotations: doing this instead of requests um

*ੈ LEO VALDEZ

SASSY MAN APOCALYPSE

god hes probably talking shit more than u

"oh her? yeah she was such a bitch like no way she looked at you like that when i said i was so obviously taken!"

"and her hair? has she ever heard of a brush? like, if you're gonna come at my girlfriend, at least make yourself look better so you don't embarrass yourself. oh wait, you can't!"

probably laying on you as he does this, and starts squeezing you tightly

"because my girlfriend is the prettiest girl in the world!"

awww that's cute right?

WRONG this man is so quick with his comebacks its actually insane

does NOT think before he speaks

doesnt hold back, even against you (booo why did ur gf privileges not apply to that)

"leo! can you like, move your fat ass off me?" you groan under him as he lays down with his dead weight on top of you.

"like the fat ass you don't have?"

were you silent or SILENCED

everytime you think he wouldnt take it that far?? oh he will go THERE (but he always makes sure u know hes joking)

doesnt want to invoke your wrath so he apologizes IMMEDIATELY

"fix your hair-"

"fix your face- IM SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO-"

*ੈ PERCY JACKSON

guys. we cant forget abt the OG SASSY MAN

also talking shit a whole lot more than he should

"uh, she needs to get her act together before she can start coming at others; like-" rolls his eyes for EMPHASIS "who does she think she is, talking to you like that?"

damn, who taught this man sass?

bro was BORN with it or smth

even outsasses you sometimes

if you tell him to get like a snack or something and hes in the mood to just lay down with you, he will huff SO loudly

"ugh, fine!"

gets you extra snacks anyway in case you want more (and drinks obviously)

SO SO INVESTED like he has the WHOLE story down

but sometimes mixes up the ppl if its been a while

"wait wait, so the library girl and the jock are dating?"

"the nerd and the library girl are dating, but the jock wanted library girl."

"that makes a lot of sense, actually."

has tea of his OWN because the sea knows everything apparently

"tobias told me-" percy started.

"who the fuck is tobias?"

"the turtle, duh. anyway, he said that this guy always takes girls to the beach on their first date, to make them fall in love with him or something. like, every single girl he's dated."

"...does that count as a manipulation tactic?"

*ੈ JASON GRACE

will be on your side no matter what

like if you end it with an "it is what it is"

um??? it is NOT what it is hello?

doesnt look like hes listening but hes paying attention to EVERYTHING

like hes "reading" a book but hes been on the same page for the entire time youve been talking

tries not to laugh at your rather creative insults, but sometimes you get a soft chuckle out of him

you take that as a win

once, you caught him listening through the door as you gossiped with piper over the phone

he was SO embarrassed omg

after that, you made sure to tell him all the tea as soon as you have it

"—and he cheated on her with her SISTER. who's like, three years younger than him! like, what the fuck? that's not even all he did!" you sit up, hands playing with the blanket. you think you see him lean a bit closer, as if wanting to hear more. "she fucked his brother in his room, like, her ex boyfriend's room for revenge! okay, that was a bitch move, but was it deserved?"

jason shrugged. "i'd say no one deserves to be cheated on, but he kinda did deserve it."

"exactly!"

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 13th

~*~

1. hi i want to read fanfics in which lwj saves wwx and wens. thank you!

IF by Remma3760 (Not Rated, 94k, WangXian, QingJue, Aftermath of Violence, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, BAMF LWJ, Golden Core Reveal) LWJ immediately goes to the Jin camp, gets there first, & chooses to act to save the Wens

🔒 Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sick fic, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It) WWX & the Wens get sick & go to Gusu for help, & LWJ lets them in

~*~

2. Hello! Thank you for the amazing recs! Loving it! For the next In the mood for (hehehe I'm greedy), does anyone know any fics with Sect Leader Lan Zhan? Thank you! @lostandmessedup

🔒The Straightest Path by meyari (T, 30k, WangXian, NieLan, MingLi, ChengSang, war and death Grief/Mourning, Politics, plotting for neuroatypicals, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Non-Canon Relationship, I killed Lan Zhan's family, No Yīn Iron, Sect Leader LWJ)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Temptation by Karmiya (E, 23k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, WIP, Sect Leader LWJ, domestic abuse)

~*~

3. ITMF a) video game crossovers and b) fics where the boys playing video games is a big part of the story. 🎮 (Side note if a Stardew AU doesn't exist yet, someone really needs to get on that) @linderel

No A/B/O / Omegaverse, thank you

3A)

🔒 Season of Resurrection by Pyrrti (G, 1k, WangXian, Sky: Children of the Light Fusion, POV Multiple, Pre-Relationship, Reunions, POV LSZ, POV LWJ, POV WWX)

To Let It Bloom by Broken_Synchronicity (T, 2k, WangXian, WWX & Everyone, WIP, Modern with Magic, Stardew Valley Fusion, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WCZ & CSSR are still dead sorry, Family Bonding, WCZ & JFM are related, Farmer WWX, Librarian LWJ, Genius WWX, MXY Lives, Grief/Mourning, WWX is gonna solve world hunger or die trying, Slow Burn, Getting to Know Each Other, Tall WWX) Omg I can't believe I didn't pay attention to 3 because HEY I STARTED WRITING A STARDEW AU FIC NOT A WEEK BEFORE THIS POST 🤣

Yearning for a Star by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 18k, WangXian, WIP, Modern, Inspired by Stardew Valley, Omega Verse, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, Jealous LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Magic)

3B)

Dreams of Cultivation by mortuus_lingua (M, 97k, WangXian, XiCheng, SongXiao, Themes, LWJ Uses Actual Words, Nonbinary NHS, Nonbinary XXC, BAMF WQ, Modern AU, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Oblivious WWX, Protective JC, Cinnamon Roll WN, Developing Relationship)

5000 IQ hanguangjun gameplay scores him a boyfriend by orphan_account (Not rated, 5k, wangxian, streamer au, among us, getting together, identity reveal)

~*~

4. Hello, Itmf please 🤗

Want to read a scene where wq says to WY that jc won't be a good leader if lack of core breaks his will to leave. And blaming wy for lotus pier fall shows his lack of common sense and clear judgement. And maybe about choking and who will protect him afterwards? Like how can you trust this person as a leader and family member

Maybe about some ethics in wq.

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) Bonus: a core transfer doesn't happen but Wen Ning helps Wei Ying see how poorly he's been treated by Jiang Cheng in the second chapter

~*~

5. Hellour! This is for the next imtf,

Any fics where lwj's personalities just like flips? Maybe he gets hit with a curse or a talisman and suddenly those repressed lonely teenage boy is out in the open. It can be post-canon or in the cloud recess arc i dont mind. Any au works. (but no wip please! Or any time travel fics)

beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 12k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Confessions, Curses, Embarrassment, Vulnerability, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Honesty, Communication, beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot [podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea) )

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending)

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by thunderwear (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Truth Spells, Curses, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Post CQL, Getting Together)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining)

~*~

6. Hello, I wonder if there is some fic where Nie Huaisang is sect leader for some time. And I don't mean post canon or post Mingjue's death. I mean mostly when Nie Mingjue is alive and well but Nie Huaisang was made to be acting sect leader for whatever reason or temporary reason.

Wandering Eyes (That Nie Mingjue will gouge out if he notices, Father, STOP) by AstaraelWeeps (M, 14k, 3zun, NHS & JGY, time travel, fix it, scheming)

~*~

7. Looking for fic that treat Jiang Cheng as the complex character he is - Lynchpin is a fave because he's not "all good" just doing his best after learning some hard lessons. More of that kind of story? Happy ending and of course no JC bashing. @kimboo-york

Jiang Cheng Friendly / Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

The worth of a life with no regrets by SnowdropsAndDreams (Not Rated, 43k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Post-Canon Fix-It)

The crow, the owl and the dove by GoschateWabn (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sunshot Campaign, JC Needs a Hug, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Dynamics, Fluff and Humor, Protective JC, BAMF JC, BAMF WWX, Sect Leader WWX, Canon Divergence, Oblivious WWX, JC is So Done, No Golden Core Transfer, JC Has No Golden Core)

Drowning in the Sun by Zelos (T, 8k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Transfer, Canon-Typical Violence, Brotherly Love, Sunshot Campaign, Family Dynamics, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, 🔒 [Podfic] Drowning in the Sun by flamingwell)

❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

basically anything by Lise that has Jiang Cheng as a character but especially With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Road Trips, (terrible road trips), Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, ish, Awkward Conversations, POV JC, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (ish they’re working on it), [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

Listen to the Ocean (Hear it Break) by TheQueen (T, 3k, ChengQing, JC & WWX, WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Character Study, Unreliable Narrator, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Angry Grape Boy hurts everyone around him and himself, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Family Dynamics)

From Yunmeng, Unsent by isozyme (T, 5k, JC & WWX, epistolary, angst, canonical character death, nightmares, canon compliant)

JC and WWX’s Get Along Sweater series by newamsterdam (T, 29k, JC & WWX, Trapped In A Closet, Cultivation as Plot Device, Reconciliation, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Novel Spoilers, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Night Hunting, Ghosts, Action/Adventure, Brotherly Love, Complicated Relationships, Yunmeng Shuangjie)

~*~

8. For ITMF, I would like to read a post-canon fic where Jin Ling renounces his claim on the Sect Leadership of the Jin and instead becomes the Sect Heir for the Jiang. A focus on the politics and personal feelings/consequences at some point would be lovely. Preferably non-wangxian-centric and no JC bashing. Thanks! @jensownzoo

~*~

9. In the mood for fics where the juniors love WWX and he is a fun/good senior they love and look up to alot. Thank you! @stormblessed95

🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff)

Glow by Quiet_crash (G, 2k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Junior Quartet, JC & WWX)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror)

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Married Wangxian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, And his research assistant Lan ducklings, LQR is not a good educator, the kids are alright, WWX did online learning before it was cool)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & the Junior Ensemble, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, background wangxian, BAMF WWX, Humor)

your words upon my lips by uchiuchi (T, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, Curses, no sad times only good times, Canon Compliant, Romance, they are married!!, Let LWJ Say Fuck, Case Fic)

~*~

10. hi this is a itmf!!

hi fellow wangxian fic lovers at this point in the fandom i feel like ive read every good written wangxian fic out there im looking for any hidden gems you guys have im talking 10k hits beautiful plot or story anything that just immediately makes u kudos or bookmark it, it can be any au tags whatever im not picky i just ask for atleast over 10k words :))) @yesibest

i guess i'll have to change my plan by darjeelinh (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, First Time, Inspired by Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004), soft rom-com vibes, One Night Stands, but not really, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, they both have demi vibes in this fight me about it, Loss of Virginity, Misunderstandings, Separations, Reunions, wangxian canon Elopement™️ shenanigans, now with art) absolute love in first read

swallowing rocks, swallowing peach skins by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Angst, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Torture, Threats of Violence, Death Threats, Choking, Stabbing, Major Character Injury, POV LWJ, Smart LWJ, Smart WWX, Murder, Kidnapping, Gags, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, Drugs, Vomiting, Literal Sleeping Together, WWX Has PTSD, Food Issues, Sharing Clothes, Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Soft WangXian, Angry WWX, Caretaking, Food as a Metaphor for Love, the mortifying idea of being known, Suicidal Thoughts, Angry LWJ)

who cares when you're gone by camellialice (M, 22k, WangXian, background SongXiao, Hades (Video Game) Fusion, Canon-Typical Levels of Self-Sacrifice, Canon-Typical Levels of Spitting Up Blood, Canon-Typical Levels of Pining)

‘Let’s go home.’ by Crowgirl (E, 27k, WangXian, Coffee Shops & Cafés, LQR's Excellent Parenting, Meet-Cute, First Kiss, First Time, First Meetings, Pining, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Past XiYao, past emotional abuse, Past Emotional Manipulation)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

🔒take me home (where i belong) by scarletwanlian (E, 153k, WangXian, Slice of Life, Modern, College/University, PTSD, Trauma, Dissociation, Music, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Depression, Running, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Injury Recovery, mental recovery, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, AND sexual intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, and sleeping together, First Time, ace characters, also aro characters, and aroace character, Families of Choice, Car Accidents, Found Family, Flashbacks, Nightmares, gore elements somewhat, descriptions can get a bit gorey at times, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Healing, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt, Whump)

Who You Gonna Call? by Beltenebra (E, 15k, WangXian, Ghost Hunters, Modern with Magic, Minor ChengSong, Anal Sex, Paranormal Investigators, Mild Blood, Mild Horror, Ghosts, Demons, Fluff and Humor, Case Fic)

Légèreté by perkynurples (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern au, Horse riding, Swords as horses, Crack treated seriously, Friends to Lovers)

From the Ashes by mostlynonsense (travelingpsycho) (E, 83k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Found Family, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, IN SPACE!, Space)

🔒我拿青春赌明天 / I’ll wager my youth against tomorrow by tombenough_and_continent (T, 37k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Historical, Time Travel, ...they're time-travelling enemy agents writing each other love letters, Purple Prose, Enemies to Lovers)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Mystery, Secret Identity, Wishes, Magic, Canon, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, JGY Redemption, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Hairpins as a metaphor for love, Idiots in Love)

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Lovesong of the Square Root of Negative One by honeydrip (lmeden) (M, 55k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Modern, Blood and Gore, Elements of Horror, Elements of magical realism, Layered Narratives, A Story Within a Story, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Not Everyone Dies)

Scapegoat by FinallyGotTheInvitation (E, 276k, WangXian, Modern, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Death penalty, well not actually but there's threats of it, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn-ish they have a trial to get through, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral JC, Good Sibling JYL, Neutral LXC, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Smut, languid sex, Angst, Kissing, Neck Kissing, all other ways to say 'emotionally horny sex' ok, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream, porn in chapter 27, blowjob, slight breathplay, Size Kink, porn in chapter 29, Breeding Kink, sex wrestling, Tickling, WWX is a Brat, porn in chapter 30, Illustrations)

after hours by mellowflicker (E, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU Slice of Life, Age Difference, Older LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch LWJ)

~*~

11. I’m in the mood for fics with bodily possession. Just any fic where lwj or wwx are possessed or under control of someone or something. Thank you!

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not Rated, 59k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Nightmares, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds, Possession, Panic Attacks, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Good Sibling JC, Hurt WWX, Soft WangXian, Feels, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Delusions, JC Loves WWX, Insomnia, Good Sibling WWX, Sleepwalking, Sleeptalking, LWJ just wants to sleep with his husband, Protective JC, WWX Sees Dead People, LJY pulls through, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses, PTSD, Post-Canon, YLLZ WWX, resentful energy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, WWX is tired, LWJ literally just wants to sleep with WWX again is that too much to ask for??, Soft JC, Yunmeng Siblings Feels) in this wwx IS possessed by smth, I can't say what cuz it's a spoiler, just mentioning that it is almost like possession even tho the summary doesnt seem like it :)) enjoy

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda??, Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, 🔒 [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending) link in #5

Obedient and Bellicoseby thunderwear (T, 20k, Wangxian, Ella Enchanted AU, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, cursed LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good brother LXC, LQR loves his nephews you cant change my mind, LWJ crying, Protective LXC, Pining, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Brief Depictions of Violence, meaning at least one of the people you really want to get stabbed does in fact get stabbed)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) link in #5

🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

~*~

12. I'm asking for canon era fics with lots and lots of hugs between the juniors and Wei Ying. I don't care if the ducklings are grown ups or just little babies. Probably please both types. Just nothing below 40k please. @constellationdks

~*~

13. Can you find me fics where cultivation sects gets punished for their unfairness. All sects gets punished not even Lan and Nie are left out.

~*~

14. Hey, itmf for fic post Wei's supposed death scene where Lan Zhan is punished (those beatings from cql) and then spends his solitary confinement in the cold cave. I am mostly interested in fics with depressed Lan Zhan who refuses to speak to anyone and/or gives up on his duties afterwards and just wastes away in that cave (instead of whatever he was supposed to be doing during those three years). It can even have suicide attempt or running away attempt. Thank you.

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ) ARGH! I know I've read several fics that fit for 14 but cannot find them for the life of me! The only one I found that comes close is chapter 5 in A Life Without Regrets where Lan Wangji reflects on choosing to live for A-Yuan after his punishment in his first life (it's a time travel fic).

~*~

15. hi! this is for itmf. do you perhaps know any fics that focus around lwj's insecurity or fear that he's becoming like his father or something of the like? :") thanks!

the year of drought by idrilka (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pining, Getting Together, Wedding Planning, Letters, Instructional Use of Gay Porn)

how do i forgive myself (for losing so much time) by thunderwear (M, 26k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid Fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition, of sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, yunmeng bros reconciliation, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pining, read end notes for warnings, Post-Canon) Lan Wangji's fears about being like his father are also a small part at the end

~*~

16. Hello! For the next ITMF does anyone knows fics where Wangxian adopts Lan Jingyi? @lostandmessedup

if i had the strength by agloeian (M, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Fix-It, somewhat of a case fic, Heaven Official’s Blessing inspired gods & ghosts, No Spoilers for Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mild Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, WWX is not in a great place for a lot of this fic, He Gets Better Though!, this fic is all about learning to give yourself the help you give others tbh, Baby LJY, recovery fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

~*~

17. For ITMF, I'm interested in what people's favorite Lan Jingyi-centric fics are. Doesn't have to be from his POV, but he should be the focus. Any ships or no ships are fine. Thanks! @jensownzoo

anyway, here’s wuji by kakikaeru (T, 18k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

you are my chosen family by jinyinhua (T, 14k, LSZ & LJY, wangxian, LJY & LSZ & LWJ & WWX, 5+1 Things, Good Kid LJY, Good Kid LSZ, Blood and Injury, Night Hunts, Drinking, Age Regression/De-Aging, Married Wangxian, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics)

Why Not Me? by Eleanor_Fenyx (G, 26k, LJY & LQR, LQR & LWJ, LJY & LSZ, LJY & LWJ, good uncle LQR, LJY pov, war orphan LJY, character study, LJY has ADHD, found family, rejection sensitivity dysphoria)

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Podfic by SeaNoodle) LJY gets possessed by the Yiling Patriarch

The Special Hell by MedeaWasRight (E, 73k, JC/LJY, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief, implied eating disorder, Implied Bulimia, Vomiting, Drowning, JC runs a water park, Developing Relationship, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Mourning, LJY is the best Lan, peril in water, Reconciliation, Hospitals, physical assault, references to children in hospital) For a Jingyi-important fic, modern au, try this one from MedeaWasRight. It’s a 2nd part of a series, but it can be read as a standalone.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[elfrooting]

I’m thinking about Emmrich and his obvious compassion for the dead, and I’m wondering about how the Mourn Watch are trained. We know not all Mortalitasi share his empathy (see the mage in “The Dread Wolf Take You” from Tevinter Nights), so maybe the Mourn Watch undergo something that helps instill this reverence and respect for spirits and the departed.

It got me thinking: what if the Mourn Watch mages work with the dying before they work with the dead?

Perhaps as apprentices they complete a year of service as death doulas, to give them perspective on how death affects not only those dying but also their loved ones. They hold hands at bedsides, comfort parents and children and siblings and spouses, and give potions to help ease their patients across the Veil without pain, if that is their wish.

They then prepare their remains for mummification, treating these mortal shells with the same care they did before their soul departed. They lovingly wash their skin, anoint them with oils and resins, and wrap them in strips of linen with their precious earthly belongings tucked between the layers.

Then, now knowing the departed on a more intimate level than many who knew them in life, they begin to search the Fade for a being who will best embody the things they held important, imparting their legacy to live on through a benevolent spirit who can then experience the waking world through their form.

They don’t bind these spirits. They don’t need to, because they have come to know and understand the departed so thoroughly that they can then seek out one who will come willingly into their body.

Maybe this is why some Nevarran mages callously bind wisps to stir their wine, but Emmrich can see a wailing corpse and recognize the pain of lost love in its cries, or give a curious wandering soul the perfect postmortem position as his librarian.

Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is RIP to the rest of the Mortalitasi but the Mourn Watch is different.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: D for Doggy

Summary: How does an Endless teach you a lesson? Maybe on your hands and knees.

Notes: ~2.9k words, your girl needs to get laid 눈_눈

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, unprotective sex (do you think Endless can get STDs?), fem!reader, dom!dream, p in v, no foreplay goin' in dry babyyyy, jealous dream, unintentional cheating, slight angst but it gets fucked out, enjoy

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

C for Cockwarming ⇆ E for Edging

The world warps around you once again as your body stretches to a singular dimension. You are the beginning and end of everything. You will be there even when Death leaves and then you will take what she has left and open the next universe. Rebirth and repurpose. 

The Traveller. The One Who Knows. The Singularity. 

You have a name, you think, but it’s so old you don’t even remember how it feels on your tongue. 

It’s lonely being you, your sole job is making sure that everything works out in the end for every being, dead, alive, or yet to exist. And in your lonely existence, you often wander to different universes and realms. Your favorite was the Dreaming, a large realm that spread several different universes ruled by the Lord of Dreams, Morpheus. 

The familiar essence of the Dreaming greets you when you’re done warping into the realm. You feel each cell of your body rebuilding itself, from quirks to cells, from cells to living organisms, you are reborn. With a blow from your lips, your hair made of star systems and nebulas float back into place. 

The familiar corset you wore before you warped cinches around your waist and a breath leaves you, the ivory bones poking into your ribs. It was the necessary fashion for the realm you went to where a sneakily placed seed was enough to end a war that would come in five decade’s time. The rest of the time was spent entertaining the fae prince in his court. A good way to pass the time, but it eventually got boring, hence here you were.

The smell of tea and leather bound books indicates that you managed to weasel yourself into Lucienne’s library. You run your fingers across the spine of old and new books alike, occasionally itching your back when the markings annoy you. The corset dilutes the relief and you’re left with a slight vex for being denied scratching an itch. Lucienne is fast to find you, or you her, it’s all the same to you. You greet each other at a long table. Scrolls, books, and maps laid out before you. 

“Lady Singularity,” She greets with a familiar smile. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a few decades now, has it?” 

“It has.” You agree as you turn your attention to the worn book in her hands, noticing the familiar face of the fae prince you met. “I was just with him.” You comment off handedly. 

“Of course, the Dreaming catalogs everything. You have been busy.” Lucienne comments as she continues to flip through the pages of your recent adventure. 

You look over her shoulder and read along with her, chuckling to yourself at the fun you had. When a familiar scene starts to unfold on the page, blush creeps up your cheeks and down your neck, a few of the stars in your hair exploding from your outrage. 

“Don’t read that!” You exclaim as you yank the book from her hands. You close it shut and the sound echoes in the library. 

“Oh, please, I’ve read everything. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Lucienne takes the book from you and no matter how hard you grip, the librarian has some weird power over the book and takes it easily. 

“Okay, well don’t read it when I’m in the room. I don’t need a friend to know what I did with… him.” Your words taper as you give yourself away the more you speak. “I’m leaving.” You say quickly as you run away from the situation. 

The sun is setting when you make your way up the winding and seemingly never-ending stairs of the castle. The halls were cast in warm pinks and oranges when you reached the room the Dream Lord had given you the first time you visited several millennia ago. The room is the same as you left it, the open window giving to a soft breeze as dusk turns to night. 

You walk to the mirror, noticing slight changes to your physical form when you jump through that wormhole. You’ll stay the night and then go back to your own realm, the dimension between past and future, but for now, the present is much needed. 

You pull at the string of your outer dress and start to breathe easier, the heavy fabric dropping and pooling around your feet. Your shoes come off soon after and then your stockings. Your fingers grasp at the strings that tie your corset together but each time comes just an inch short. You’re becoming breathless from the struggle when your room door opens. 

“Singularity.” A voice calls out to you. His shadow blocks the entire door before he slinks into the room. His robe flowed behind him like a wave of black ink. 

“Hello, Morpheus.” You greet back, looking at him through the ornate mirror. 

You go back to trying to loosen your corset, the markings on your back growing more and more itchy the longer you struggle. You give up with a huff, and your shoulders sag in defeat. 

“Allow me,” Dream offers and his cold fingers run across your upper back, moving the nebulas over your shoulder, then trailer down your shoulder. 

Goosebumps follow the fingers and down your arms before his slender fingers go to untangle the corset strings. You feel his exhale on the back of your neck and you close your eyes, afraid of what you may look like to him through the mirror, or worse yet losing yourself if you were to see him. You do end up peaking and watching intensely at how his expert fingers unfasten the strings of the constricting clothing. 

“I have missed you.” Dream confesses.

His lips press against the base of your neck when the corset finally comes off. Despite it slowly coming off, you find it hard to breathe still. His proximity was going to kill you if the end of time didn’t. He looks at you through the mirror, keeping eye contact with you as his fingers land on your waist. 

“Will you stay the night?” He murmurs against your neck, kissing the soft skin beneath it again. His hands go over your shoulder again, pulling at the chemise and letting the thin fabric fall off by itself. The final piece of clothing joining the others at your feet. 

You turn around, his hands guiding you, and place your arms around his neck, resting them there on his shoulders. 

“Maybe a few nights, if you shall permit it?” You grin up at him with a slight tilt of your head. 

He chuckles and leans in for a kiss and you meet him halfway, standing on your toes to reach his height. Oh, how he has missed the taste of you, the softness of your lips pressed against his. You have been gone too long, he thinks with a groan. 

You jump and find it to no surprise when he catches you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist comfortably as he moves the two of you towards the bed. Morpheus is all hands, running them over the roundness of your ass, up the curves of your hips, back down to caress the plumpness of your thighs. 

His lips continue, running his tongue across your bottom lip and leaning into you when you answer with a whine. The taste of you drives him crazy, his mind is in swirls as he tastes faerie pomegranate and figs. 

“Did you visit the Faerie Prince of Khoné?” He pulls away from your lips despite the difficulty of being away from you. Instead he finds solace in the shape of your collarbone, pressing open mouth kisses onto the thin skin. “I can taste it. I can taste him.” His voice rumbles with danger, the voice of a jealous lover. 

Oblivious, you settle your arms around his neck, playing with the small loose hairs at the base of his head. “I did, why?”

“And you visited him?” He asked again, emphasizing the word to ask you indirectly of what he really wanted to know. 

You look at him, eyes dark and swirling with emotion, his hands on your hips holding you harder as the seconds tick by. 

“Yes?” You answer unsure. “I visited him.”

A frown etches onto his face as he stays silent. 

You scoff at his reaction. “Of course I have multiple lovers, as I expect you to as well?”

Your fingers wander upwards into his unruly hair, twisting a few strands between your fingers. Still, he stays silent. The only indication was the brief flick of his eyes leaving yours. 

“Oh,” You say when you understand. “Oh.” You say one more time when the weight of the conversation dawns on you again. 

You’ve never felt more exposed than you have now, an emotional wedge driven between you and Morpheus. You get up from his lap and it hurts when he lets you, you feel the way your stomach drops at how easily he lets you go. Your arms cross over your chest and you step further away from the bed, and from him. The two parts of the equation are something you no longer saw yourself allowed to be a part of. 

“Forgive me, I presumed you had other lovers,” You meekly say.

Morpheus saw you now, no longer the confident entity that you usually were. You didn’t even meet his gaze. The stars in your hair turned blue and dull, a few dying at the fraying ends. 

“You presumed I had other lovers?” He echos, his voice tipped with anger. He stands now, looming over you, peering at you down his nose. His question was obvious, accusatory, and somewhat downright demeaning. 

“Forgive me, I’ll just…” You turn to leave, running away just as you’ve always done when things get too hard. You feel the way your body begins to warp, unraveling strand by strand. 

The warping stops when cool hands wrap themselves around your waist once again. One moment you are between realms and the next you are pulled back on the plush bed. You stare, dazed, at the equally ornate headboard and try to backtrack what just happened. Morpheus comes behind you, watching with lust filled eyes of you on your hands and knees, at the way your hair falls over your shoulders. You turn your head and look at him over your shoulders, unsure what was happening. Morpheus’s face gives away nothing, even his clothes disappeared, an act that you didn’t see him do.

“What’s–” Your words are cut off as he leans and his hand comes entangled in your hair, firmly grasping it. A gasp leaves your lips and you notice the way your body couldn’t stop the way your back arched at the pleasurable pain. 

“Bow your head,” He growls as he shoves your head into the pillow. Your arms give out beneath you at the slight force. Heat travels easily down to your core and you feel the wetness slide down your inner thigh. 

“It’s Lord Morpheus for tonight, darling. You will do well to remember that.” His voice gravels as he runs a finger down your spine. He traces the markings lightly, causing a ticklish sensation across your back and a whine follows. Your ass pushes back on him impatiently at which he clicks his tongue at. 

“You do not get to ask for anything tonight. You will only take what your rightful lover will give you, understood?” His fingers trace your opening teasingly as his other hand holds down your hip in control, 

“Yes, my lord,” You gape, your eyes rolling and you swore you could see the back of your skull. A plea rests heavy on your tongue, but you bite yourself so as to not break his rules tonight. 

Dream of the Endless is a gentle lover, but even his patience can run thin. His eyes run over your figure, curves prominent at the position he has placed you in. He loved you like this, vulnerable, exposed, and ready for him to do as he pleases with you tonight. 

The hotness of him presses against your entrance, sitting comfortably between your lips and he pushes forward once, twice, neither times entering you. You only whine in distress as he dances the line between teasing and pure, unadulterated pleasure. He caresses his hand over the curve of your ass, against the softness of your thighs, just like before, and you understand that he isn’t mad anymore, but you will be taught a lesson tonight nonetheless. 

He grabs the base of your hair again, the nebulas leaving shimmering stardust over his finger and presses a third time. His other hand grounds you on your hips and he pushes in. Without any proper foreplay his size stretches you uncomfortably. But, Dream of the Endless is a gentle lover so he stays still, fighting every urge in his shaking body as he looks down at your ragged breathing and uncontrollable shivers. 

He waits until you push back into him before he begins to move, taking you in inch by thick inch. He pulls out and a groan vibrates in his throat at the drag of his cock in you. The sound of your muffled moans spur him as he stares at how he enters you again. One more drag of his cock and he starts to fuck you in earnest as your whimpers grow louder. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin bounce around the room accompanied by the sound of your wonton, muffled moans. He pulls at your hair, pulling your face away from the pillows and the sounds grow louder. Each thrust he gives you makes your moans grow higher in pitch. You don’t think he’s ever been this deep in you as he scrambles the thoughts into your brain into nothing more than pleasurable gibberish. 

His hands were everywhere they could get a hold of. You’re chanting now, anything that comes across as a thought in your mind leaves your mouth in a haste of gibberish and repeats of his name like a mantra. Your clit begs for attention and with the last bit of clarity you had left, you moved one hand down towards your core. 

Morpheus is quick to stop you, giving a sound slap on the meat of your ass cheeks, the sting enough for you to yank your hand away. 

“Please,” You whine. “Please, please, please, my lord.”

“Will you return to the Faerie Prince of Khoné?” He asks between pants.

Your pussy tightens around his cock as his fingers and trusts do not slow down. Your orgasm was imminent and just barely shimmering under your skin. The question he asks sounds muffled in your mind, distorted amongst the thoughts of his unrelenting pounding and your clit pulsing from attention. 

“Hah… who?” You managed to choke out.

“Perfect answer, my star.” He whispers in your ear.

“Please,” You beg again. “I need it.” 

He thinks for a bit, considering if you deserve it as he watches you try to fuck yourself harder by meeting his thrusts. With a hum he leans over you, enveloping you in the warmth of his body as his fingers slide between your legs. He taps it once, enough to make you jump slightly in your skin, before he draws tight circles around the enlarged clit, your arousal making the action easy and slippery. 

Somewhere along the lines of your moaning, drool seeps out of you, wetting the pillow with your spit. Morpheus notices, of course, and grins at the sight. 

“Let me cum, please let me cum!” You plead into the air, obscenities of his name following soon after. 

“Very well, I shall give it to you.” 

Morpheus fucks you harder, just the way you like it, just the way he knows how to give it to you. Your orgasm is ripped out of you with a high pitched wail, sparking down your spine as little firecrackers light up in your hair, your teeth buzzing with the force of it all. The wetness of your orgasm soaks the inside of your thighs and drips down onto the sheets. Morpheus watches closely as it leaves you in a panting mess and feels himself become undone, releasing himself into the deepest part of you. 

He stays like that for a few moments, relishing in the warmth of your sex. When he does pull out, the mixture of your two arousals slowly seeps out, joining the puddle on the sheets. He calms his breathing, going back to tracing the art on your spine. You collapse in a heap of flesh and bones, using the last bit of your energy to turn over and lay on your back. Morpheus crawls over you, his hand never leaving your skin as he cups your face. 

“No more lovers but you,” You promise as he places a soft kiss on your lips. 

“I could never control you even if I wanted to, but… thank you,” He says as he accepts your promise. 

Morpheus falls beside you and pulls the blankets over both of your bodies, pulling you close so you would be flushed against his side. By now the sun has long since set and the two lovers share each other’s embrace in the company of stars. 

C for Cockwarming ⇆ E for Edging

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

This was my poor attempt at understanding physics and trying to personify a concept like a singularity

♡ Yours, Layla

[cute-sucker]

note: im begging for requests for this au!!! i'm sobbing, idk what character it is <3

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jonbee taking care of you during an apocalypse and you're in near tears begging him to kiss you. it happens all the time, the casual way that he's dominant over you. if it's the way that he's so much taller, the way his rough hands feel on yours. he always drops a kiss on your forehead before serving you french toast.

you love the normality of it all. the way he's humming the song on the radio, and you're bobbing your head to it. ivy is growing in the trailer park, and the shorts you have on have dirt smudges all over it when the two of you were running.

yet john b is giving you everything he can to serve you a normal lifestyle. he's trying everything to make you feel better, tucking back your hair, and coaxing you to eat. he's even found an old apron that has, 'kiss the chef,' on it, and suddenly your tearing up, holding up your brittle knife and fork.

hot tears drip down your face, as you sniffle quietly nudging at the food on your plate. almost immediately john b turns around, eyes full of concern.

"hey? hey, what's wrong?" he murmers, dropping down to your level. his hat is on backwards, and you fight the urge to turn it the other way. "don't cry pup," he cooes, grazing your wet cheeks, and you fight the urge of jumping into his arms, or asking to sit on his lap. after all, the two of you are platonic anyways. that's clear to tell.

you choke on your sob, "iono, just feel this pressure on my chest. i really need to be close to someone." even as you say this, your eyes are wide ready to be rejected, but john be is always there for you, as his hands snake up your sides, and sits you down on his lap.

"alright now. let's eat something now. maybe that'll make the ache go away."

you nodd at his soft words. he's right, he's always right. the two of you could barley find normal food now, always preservatives, or food that makes you hurt. you like it when he embraces you like this, his big arms around your waist, as you feel like a kid swinging your legs. and yet here you are crying the one day that there is good food.

suddenly you feel worse. the world is ending, and you'll be dead soon, and john be will never be with you, and you will have never kissed anyone. you'll never be a librarian in a niche town with a husband who would kiss you off your feet. no, you will have never kissed someone! what a tragedy to love someone so deeply yet never touch their soothing lips. maybe john b's lips on yours would fix everything.

you feel so stupid.

finally, john b puts the fork down, warm breath on your neck, and he sets you off his lap to look you in the eye.

"i need you to tell me what's wrong, and so i can fix it." he whispers to you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. you shake your head, feeling the pounding feeling in your chest, as if you were going to vomit but your stomach was empty.

john b sighs, his voice firm now, "this won't go away. show me where it hurts. do you feel sick?" he murmurs to you, giving you his hand to guide, and you tentivally take it to place it on your heart.

"here," you croak, "it hurts here."

he looks surprised, yet his eyes are warm as he speaks in his soothing tone, his words practically melting in your mouth, "why does it hurt pup?"

"i need you to kiss me," you blurt out, and let go of his hand, "so it can stop."

he tilts his head almost amused, "yea? you need me to kiss you, so your heart can stop hurting."

you hate the way he's teasing you, a soft lint in his tone, his large hands still settling on you as he talks to you. he's so gentle with you it burns your skin, it burns everything inside of you.

"i can't take it. i can't take the fact that i've never kissed someone," and then you pause, your voice a whimper, "i can't take it that i haven't kissed you jonbee-"

and then without a doubt, he looks at you again, his eyes so feverious, so full of emotion, burning with the exact same fire that you feel your body ablaze with.

just like that john b cups your jaw, and kisses you so sweetly you see stars.