#and also like the title of the song being ‘now and then’

[sereia4skz]

hihi! could i please ask for a daddy!innie? with age regressor reader? where, bc he’s always been treated as the youngest and the baby, isn’t quite sure how to help when reader regresses, but it’s super fluffy as she helps him figure it out? and maybe at the end he does something for her on his own and it’s super cute? love your works!!! <3

drabble | little lessons

pairing: caregiver!jeongin x little!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: age regression (non-sexual), use of caregiver/daddy titles, pacifier use, plushies, soft baby talk, insecure!Jeongin

word count:

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

Jeongin’s knee bounces under the table, thumb swiping back and forth across the rim of his mug. He hasn’t taken a sip of his tea in five minutes.

You’re curled up on the couch nearby, wrapped in your favorite blanket, pink pacifier bobbing gently with each breath. You’ve been in headspace since this morning, soft, quiet, and clingy, even more than usual. Your favorite plushie, the one he won for you at that awful street fair claw machine, is tucked under your chin like a shield.

He knows what this is. You’ve explained it before. Age regression. It’s something safe for you, something warm. It helps with the bad days. He wants to be good at this. He wants to be your safe place. But… he’s never been anyone’s caretaker before.

He’s always been the baby, the one who gets cooed at and teased and protected. He’s not used to this.

You peek over at him, big doe eyes blinking slow and sleepy behind your stuffy. You shift under the blanket like you’re unsure. Your hand reaches out but doesn’t quite stretch far enough.

“Daddy?”

It’s barely a whisper, just a puff of air around your paci, but Jeongin hears it like a song. His heart squeezes. He sets down his mug and crosses the room to kneel in front of you.

“Hi, baby,” he says softly. “You okay?”

You nod but wrinkle your nose. “You… far,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry, sweet pea. Wanna cuddle now?”

You nod again, a bit faster. He smiles and lifts you into his arms like you weigh nothing. He sits down on the couch and lets you curl into his lap, your legs over his and your cheek against his chest. His hand rubs slow circles on your back, grounding you. Your plushie ends up squished between you both like a tiny soft barrier.

It’s quiet for a while. Then, your fingers tug gently at his hoodie sleeve.

“Daddy’s... not smilin’,” you mumble. “Did I do s’methin’ wrong?”

His heart drops.

“No, no, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he promises, kissing the top of your head. “I’m just thinkin’. That’s all.”

You frown, pacifier falling from your lips to rest on your chest. “Thinkin’ makes Daddy sad?”

Jeongin chuckles softly. “Sometimes.”

He waits a beat. Then he sighs, finally brave enough to say it.

“I just… I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You blink up at him. “Huh?”

“I wanna take care of you,” he says gently. “Be a good Daddy. But I’ve never… done this before. I don’t know what you need sometimes, and I get scared I’ll mess it up.”

Your little hands grab his hoodie tighter. “But you’re already a good Daddy…”

Jeongin leans back, touched, but also confused. “Yeah?”

You nod, cheeks puffing up in that little pouty way you do when you’re being very serious. “You hold me lots. You talk nice. You always make me snacks and put my plushie in the dryer when she gets wet. And you tell me you love me all the time.”

A smile finally cracks across his face. “That’s… a lot, huh?”

“S’a lot,” you confirm with a decisive nod.

Jeongin kisses your forehead. “Okay. Thank you, baby. That makes me feel a lot better.”

You beam.

And then you light up with another idea.

“Wanna teach Daddy?”

He blinks. “Teach me… how to help you?”

You nod shyly. “Can show you what I like. So you won’t be scared no more.”

Jeongin lets out a breathless little laugh. “Okay. Deal.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He grins, holds out his pinkie, and lets you wrap your tiny finger around his.

From there, the day turns into a lesson.

You show him your regression box, the one he’s seen you keep tucked in the closet. You pull out your coloring book and favorite markers, soft jammies, the pink sippy cup with the sparkly lid. He takes mental notes the whole time, even going so far as to pull out his phone and write a few things down.

“Does Daddy have a favorite color marker?” you ask as you both settle onto the floor to color.

“Hm… I think I like this blue one,” he says, holding it up. “It reminds me of the sky when you’re having a good day.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. Then you get up and crawl across the floor just to smoosh a kiss to his cheek.

He blushes like a cherry.

After snack time (apple slices and a little chocolate milk), you tug his hand and guide him to the bedroom. You hand him your bunny onesie with the floppy ears and whisper, “This one, please.”

He gets the hint.

“You want Daddy to help dress you?”

You nod, going a little quiet and shy again.

His voice lowers to a soft murmur. “Okay, sweet pea. Arms up.”

He’s gentle, moving slow as he helps you into the onesie, zipping it up and smoothing the fabric over your tummy. You peek up at him, eyes fluttering, clearly content. When he brushes your hair out of your face, you lean into his palm like a kitten.

He carries you back to the couch and lays you in his lap, humming quietly while you suck on your paci and hug your bunny close. You start to drift off, fingers curled around his sleeve.

“Love you, Daddy,” you mumble sleepily.

His heart just about bursts.

“I love you too, baby girl.”

That night, after you’ve gone to bed, small and soft and wrapped in your blankets, Jeongin sits on the couch for a long time, scrolling through parenting blogs and regression-safe caregiver tips. He even messages Chan for advice (though he plays it off like it’s for a “friend”).

He learns the difference between little space and being childish. He finds a list of bedtime routines that could help. He adds a reminder to his calendar: pick up more bubble bath & dino nuggies.

The next morning, you’re still feeling little when you wake up, but something’s different.

You blink sleepily at your bedroom door.

There’s a small pink sticky note taped to it. You crawl out of bed and pad closer to read it.

⋆｡°✩

Welcome to Little Day! Daddy made a plan for you! 💕

Morning Snuggles (with me!) Breakfast: Strawberry pancakes & juice Activity: Coloring time (Daddy found a new book!) Movie: Your pick (I’ll make popcorn!) Bathtime: Bubbles & toys ready Cuddles & bottle Bedtime story (you can pick 2!)

⋆｡°✩

Your eyes go wide.

Downstairs, Jeongin waits in the kitchen, already in an apron, flipping pink-tinged pancakes on the stove.

When you peek in shyly, he turns around and grins, soft and proud.

“Good morning, my baby,” he says. “Did you see the surprise?”

You nod slowly, fox plush in your arms.

He crouches to your height and opens his arms. “Come here.”

You run into his hug like it’s instinct.

“Daddy made your whole day special,” he murmurs into your hair. “All by himself. Just for you.”

“You’re the best,” you whisper, voice high and sleepy and full of wonder.

He squeezes you gently. “Nah. I’ve got the best little girl. I’m just finally catching up.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

taglist pt2: @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple

[thebroccolination]

"THE EX-MORNING" AND KARMIC CYCLES

Y'know, I think there might be some Buddhism going on in this series made in a country where Buddhism is super influential to the culture.

I'm tagging @hallowpen in case they want to critique or add anything since I'm basing most of this on conversations I've had with them about karma and Thai culture. \:D/ (Baby's first Buddhist meta!)

Okay so here goes: I think we could be watching a story about breaking karmic cycles, lads.

Like, here, I went back to episode 2 and rewatched this scene:

Their professor tells them that they complement each other because their strengths and weaknesses align. So when they're in balance, they're perfect together.

The trouble is that they weren't balanced. Because of Tam.

We also have Yong emphasizing the same point in the last scene of episode 2:

He says, "This clip has shown me that both of you are good in different ways," which is, crucially, the first time he's recognizing this about them. I mean, one could argue that based on the flashback in episode 7, Yong has been under the impression that Phi was dependent on Tam.

Not the other way around.

See, what I really like about Tam's reason for leaving is that it was selfish. Because he also has an arc. The bigger arc, actually, because Phi has basically completed his now.

This is where I think Phi's main arc ended.

Hear me out!

Tam is his arc. I know some viewers raised an eyebrow at Phi asking Tam to get back together before he knew the reason why Tam left, but I think he made the conscious choice to reconnect without knowing as a gesture of forgiveness. 1) Buddhism is heavy on forgiveness, and, maybe more importantly: 2) Phi broke his karmic cycle and narratively earned himself his relationship with Tam back.

Phi tells Tam that he thought he knew Tam better than anyone, but he knows now that he was wrong because he was still blindsided by what Tam did to him. They couldn't get back together without something changing first, and it's this: having recognized that his pride was part of their weak foundation, Phi opens up to Tam through his newfound humility. His only condition for them getting back together is that they resolve what he seems to see as his biggest failing in their relationship: his ego.

Narratively, Phi was always going to get back with Tam not just because it's a romantic comedy and duh:

But because from the moment they met, Phi has literally never wanted anything more than he wants Tam.

Tam is Phi's sun, and Phi is Tam's world. They're quite literally named so they're connected (Pathapi: "earth", Tamtawan: "following the sun"). Without Tam, Phi has no vibrancy, and without Phi, Tam has no purpose. But together, they also run the risk of being too codependent.

Hence: balance.

Phi was established from episode one to have a want vs. need arc: he wants his career back, but he needs Tam. Now that he has his need resolved (Tam), he'll likely spend the remaining episodes trying to get his want (career).

This means, delightfully for me, that Phi is a false POV character.

Because this story's central character is actually Tam.

[we all miss the turtleneck don't we]

The title of the series refers to Tam.

The English title is "The Ex-Morning" (the name of the show they're creating) but the Thai title is: "The Ex Always Changes" (which is based on a Thai phrase about the weather being mercurial), so this series is definitively about Tam. That's why his overall arc is the bigger one, the one that took longer to unpack, and likely the one that'll stretch to the end of the series.

Tam's arc is about breaking his own karmic cycle in which he continually gives up everything he has for Phi's benefit.

It's literally part of Tam's song "Consent":

He doesn't like living like this. He's painfully aware that from the start of their relationship, he's always prioritized Phi over himself to his own detriment, and he knows it's making him miserable.

Buuut he's still not being totally honest about it. So his character arc isn't done. As of episode 7, he's only now trying to take a step back so Phi can stand on his own.

This scene in episode two has a whole bunch of new meaning to it now that we know what we know about Tam as a character. Initially, I wondered what Tam's tone was when he says, "If I lose, you'll never see my face again. Are you okay with that?" I think he's literally offering this to Phi. As in, "Not only will I quit, I'll leave, and this time I won't come back or bother you again."

Obviously, this isn't what Phi meant, and it's clear from both of them crying afterward that it's not what either of them actually wants.

But it shows that from episode one, even after four years apart, Tam's still as self-destructive as he was when he made the choice to leave.

After one critique from their boss, Tam gave up his career and his home in the name of Phi's success. And he valued himself so little in the process that he didn't expect it to shatter Phi the way it did.

The one bit of evidence Tam had to back up this assumption was when he saw firsthand how quickly Phi got over his seemingly (but not actually, apparently!) hopeless crush on Paul by dating him. He went from best friend to rebound and never saw enough value in himself to realize it was because Phi actually does love him more than anyone.

What I like most about Tam deciding to leave the country is that he didn't do that part for Phi. Tam left Thailand because he didn't trust himself not to try and do everything for Phi again.

In this episode, we saw that his "let's break up" text was deliberately hurtful. He started out with something much, much kinder, if still cowardly. (Breaking up a loving, three-year relationship by text is only okay if you're trapped in an avalanche, kids.)

Tam was so convinced he was going to hurt Phi's chances at fulfilling his dream that he deliberately texted Phi in the way most likely to hurt him so Phi wouldn't try to get him to stay. Tam, in all his twenty-three-year-old wisdom, probably expected Phi to recover the same way he did when his crush on Paul seemed to fall through.

One could argue (and I am!) that Tam was much more dependent on Phi than the reverse. (And it might explain why Tam's mother isn't a big fan of Phi if she thought Phi was actively taking advantage of Tam rather than just, y'know, being aggressively coddled by her son.)

That's why Tam doesn't stand up for himself when Phi confronted him: he doesn't think he was in the right for what he did. He starts the episode by saying it was the worst mistake of his life. He calls himself the villain! But the reason he did it is consistent with everything we've seen of him.

He values Phi over himself every single time an opportunity presents himself.

And I think he didn't tell Phi in the bathroom scene in episode three because he didn't want Phi to know that Yong chose him over Phi while Phi was willing to humiliate himself to get his career back. It would have been genuinely cruel to do that to him considering what he'd just experienced.

I suspect Tam was planning to tell Phi after Phi's career was back on track.

But I also think Phi nailed it in this part:

I don't think Tam ever intended to come back to Thailand when he decided to leave, and I think he might have actually wanted to leave again when he thought Phi had everything he needed.

I think that changed as they spent more time together and Tam just wanted to have Phi back, but for real: I do not think Tam had a plan. One phone call from Yong and Tam left Australia to start his post-graduate career helping his ex resurrect his broken career. I think he's making this shit up as he goes along, lads. Hence all the "Ex Always Changes" thing.

I ran out of screenshots but this part is also crucial. Tam admits the contradiction of blocking Phi everywhere so he wouldn't be tempted while also saying every text and phone call made him hope somehow it was Phi. He says it only took one call from Yong to bring him back to where he was.

In response, Phi tells Tam that time doesn't make you forget, it just makes you strong enough to remember what we've been through. (Which is a banger of a line, holy shit.) Which lines up perfectly with all the flashbacks we've been getting to show us what their relationship was like and why it fell apart.

Episode three is completely about karmic cycles. The series literally shows us a transition from Phi and Tam arguing in university to arguing in the same way in the present. They were stuck in a pattern of behavior, and only now has Phi broken free of a major one.

Tam's is next.

Because despite the premise of the series making it seem like Pathapi is the one who has the most to change, Tam is actually much further behind in his arc. All Phi needed was, frankly, any support system since Tam was not only his boyfriend but his only actual friend (lol).

But Tam's need is more abstract than that, so it's gonna take him longer to get there.

As for the meta aspects, it's not a perfect one-to-one with KristSingto's lives, but it is related. PhiTam are the same age, but Singto's a year older than Kit, and through their first chapter working together, Singto clearly felt like he had to take care of Kit in a lot of ways. He was his nong from school and now, even though they were both new to the industry, Kit was still younger, more carefree, and also a notorious people-pleaser, so he did frankly need someone like Singto to ground him. But Singto's said he tried too hard to be cool, to appear unaffected, and he's doing that less now. He's loosened up a lot, and I think it's because Kit matured. Obviously Kit still adores him and needs him to a degree because we all have people we need, but he's not dependent on him anymore. They're strong as individuals now and working together by choice, so in that regard, I think the parallel to PhiTam works beautifully.

I continue to love my domestic little series about exes who are cosmically obsessed with each other. :')

TEAM TAM!!!

[l0stglitch]

Hello, odd question. With the platonic lost boys and reader would you feel comfortable to make one that depicted how they would act and feel if the reader had killed themselves due to the constant emotional and psychological abuse when they found the reader too far gone to turn into a vampire and the time afterwards? If you are comfortable of course there is no pressure. Thank you for the good stories.

The innocent can never last

Platonic yandere lost boys x reader

Notes- Ok this is a bit DARK… and also not cannon to my au. The title is a Green Day lyric because I feel like that song pretty much sums up this fic ☹️

Warnings- Exetreme physical and psychological abuse, Suicide, Murder, Marko being a creep, Corpse decomposition

Word count- 6857

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The only noise that penetrates the eerie silence of your room is the sound of your laboured breathing. You listen with your eyes closed to the unnatural wheezing of your lungs. From the sharp pain in your chest, it’s safe to assume you have at least one broken rib. You briefly wonder if your fathers feel remorse for what had happened, but quickly dismiss the idea. If they had felt anything, they would’ve stopped long before you reached this state. No, they don’t give a shit. Not anymore. 

There’s only one mirror in your room, and you haven’t dared look at it. The relentless pulsing beneath the fragile skin of your face tells you all you need to know, and a small part of you worries that the person you’ll see looking back at you will be unrecognisable. 

Their cruelty is a mystery to you. It always has been. Their desire to keep you safe and protected seems to be constantly contradicted by their primal desire to harm. To kill. You had done little to elicit such a reaction from them, but these days, it doesn’t take much. One snide comment and the fuse is lit. 

Despite your countless injuries, the worst pain you feel is the awful constricting of your throat. A clear warning sign of tears. You don’t want to cry. Not over them, but there’s no denying that your wounds run far deeper than your marred skin. They don’t care about you. Your so-called fathers had stood and watched as you crumpled up into a helpless ball on the floor, cradling your injuries and begging for mercy. Begging for comfort. Even Dwayne had regarded you with cold indifference, his dark eyes seeming awfully yellow under the flickering ambience of the fire. 

They had been your everything as a child, and for a long time, it seemed that they had reciprocated that. Now though, you often wonder why you’re still alive. The blissful days of your childhood are long gone, and now all that remains is the unforgiving reality of the present. You slowly find yourself coming to the grave conclusion that there is only one card left up your sleeve, and now seems like a fitting time to draw it.

One final act of defiance. An act that will free you from them forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A frustrated sigh escapes David’s lips as his thumb grazes uselessly against the sparkwheel of the lighter. “Fuckin’ lighter’s out of fuel,” He states gruffly, carelessly tossing it onto the ground near where Dwayne is sitting. 

The brunette regardes it with little interest, before lifting his gaze to meet David’s scowl. “It’s not out. I used that thing earlier.” 

“Then how come it doesn’t fucking work?” David snaps back, his voice laced with impatience. Dwayne’s cool indifference to everything is beginning to piss him off. He’d welcomed that attitude earlier- during your punishment, but now that it’s directed at him, he’s not so keen.

“Maybe cause your hand is shaking so much.” 

“Will you quit being such a smartass?” David growls, his eyes flickering yellow for a brief moment before he continues. “I’ve put up with enough shit today already. Don’t need you being a dick on top of that.”

There’s movement from the shadows as Marko emerges into the light, holding a half-empty bottle of beer between two fingers. “To be fair, you did ask. Can’t be too mad.”

David huffs humorlessly, but doesnt reply. It’s clear that all four of them are troubled by what had happened earlier. The air’s still thick with tension, and David knows that the others are waiting for him to make the next call. He won’t though- at least, not yet. This is what you require. Discipline. Pain. He needs to be sure that when they finally turn you, there will be no doubt of your loyalty to the pack. 

Despite telling himself that over and over, David finds that he can’t extinguish the flicker of doubt that remains in the back of his mind. Looking down at your pitiful form earlier, he had discovered that he had been scarcely able to recognise you. That potential he had previously seen in you seemed lost within your wide, bloodshot eyes. It had spooked him enough to forget that it was his daughter he was beating to near death, and not just another teenage runaway.

“You guys hear that?”

Paul’s vague question drags David from his morbid pondering. All four vampires fall silent for a moment, listening intently, before Marko speaks.

“What the hell are you talking about man? I can’t hear shit.” 

Paul frowns and glances over in the direction of your room, “Exactly. I can’t hear her.”

David is suddenly made aware of an unsettling sensation rising from his gut at the realisation. For a brief moment, he locks eyes with Dwayne, until said man suddenly seems to snap out of his trance and rushes over to your room with panicked urgency. 

David reaches your room only seconds after Dwayne. He must have smashed his way in, as your door is hanging precariously from its hinges and is disrupted by a large, splintery gash down the centre. 

The sound made by Dwayne is unlike anything the others have ever heard from him. It’s a raw cry of anger and despair. An expression of gut wrenching emotions too painful to be spoken- too powerful to be contained by mere words. Your father drops to the floor before your body as if he’s been physically wounded and begins shaking.

David watches in horrified silence. At first glance, you appear to be leaning crookedly against the wall. Upon taking a step closer though, the rope around your neck becomes visible, and David realises that you had somehow hung yourself from one of the old shelves of the hotel. From the awkward angle your head is tilted, he assumes that you had broken your neck in the effort to suffocate yourself, which explains why none of them had heard your struggle earlier.

It’s difficult to tell how long you have been dead, though David knows it could have only been a couple minutes at most. He curses himself for not checking on you sooner. How had Paul realised before he had? None of this would have happened if he hadn’t been so fucking stubborn and just gone to check you for injuries. But no, instead he had left you by yourself to deal with all your shit- and what did you do? You killed yourself. You gave up before they had the chance to cool off and apologise for taking it too far. You died in pain alone and it was all his fucking fault.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of anger washes over David, and he finds himself storming past Dwayne over to your body. With shaking hands, he yanks on the rope until it tears away from the wall, bringing the crooked shelf down with it. Your lifeless form falls forwards for a split second, before a pair of leather-clad hands grips your upper arms tightly and slams you back against the hard, stone wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” David roars, his eyes fixed intently on your ashen face as if expecting you to reply. In response, your head lolls to the side unapologetically, as if shrugging at the question with your usual teenage attitude. 

“That fucking bitch.” He spits, turning back to the others and throwing your corpse onto the floor with the shelf and rope still attached. David watches in disgust as Dwayne scrambled over to your body and cradles it to his chest, as if protecting you from the brunt of his anger.

“She’s fucking dead, Dwayne! She’s dead. You can’t-” He can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. You can’t bring her back. Dwayne’s too consumed by his own grief to even realise he’s being screamed at, and the other two… David suddenly shifts his teary eyed gaze up to the doorway to look at them.

Paul seems unable to process the reality of what had happened. His eyes are fixed on Dwayne, though he appears uncomfortable with the sight, as if witnessing such an uninhibited display of emotion has made him feel ill. “I uh-” Paul drags his eyes up to meet David’s as he speaks, “I’m gonna go. I need air.” 

Of course you do.

David watches unsympathetically as he leaves, brows knitted tightly together as if deep in thought. Really though, it’s the complete opposite. His mind is a storm of emotion- too loud to be translated into words. He jerks his head in Marko’s direction and abruptly speaks. “You gonna leave too, huh? Run away from your problems like you always fucking do?” The words spill from David’s mouth without much thought, their meaning lost to him the moment they leave his tongue. 

Marko just blinks wordlessly. His eyes hold a haunted look that doesn’t quite reach David’s icy stare. For a moment, the room is frozen in a strained state of despair, until Marko takes one final look at your body and leaves.

And then, David is alone. At least, that’s what it feels like. Dwayne is still inconsolable, so rather than attempting to offer up any words of comfort, David turns around and walks, almost robotically, back to the main chamber. When he gets there the space is empty, so he assumes that Marko and Paul must have left to process your death alone. 

For the first time in years, the cave is silent. It feels… unnatural. David shifts his weight between his feet to try and alleviate his discomfort. There’s a crawling sensation beneath his skin that makes him want to tear it all off, but he won’t. You don’t deserve that much of a reaction.

Instead, David takes a decisive step closer to the old water fountain and picks up a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. The amber liquid gently rocks from within the glass, as if encouraging him to drink. A small part of him begs to put down the whiskey and mourn for his daughter, but all his grief is buried beneath thick layers of anger, so instead he unscrews the lid and brings the rim up to his lips.

The alcohol slides down his tongue with practiced ease and leaves his throat feeling pleasantly burned. David stands there for a moment after the first sip, eyes fixed intently on the drink as he contemplates what to do next. Marko and Paul have left, and Dwayne won’t leave your side. That means he won’t have to worry about anyone coming to him for comfort. Not that anyone wants my comfort. He frowns slightly at the thought, but doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, David shifts his focus back to the situation at hand. He isn’t used to feeling unsure about things, so his first instinct is to drink. That would be appropriate wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have wanted him to cry over your death. It would be hypocritical to push you to take such a drastic measure and then get upset over it. 

After your fight earlier, after everything he’d said, it had certainly seemed like he’d wanted you dead. Is that why you did it? David grips the bottle tightly and takes another swig. He can feel guilt beginning to seep in through the cracks of his resentment, and it makes him feel sick. David knows that it will only be a matter of time until he breaks. Until then, the only thing he can think to do is drink away all traces of emotion.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Rain falls from the sky in fat, angry droplets as Marko races along the narrow dirt track. His legs feel cold as mud sprays onto his jeans, making them stiff against his skin. He pays little attention to his discomfort, though, as he pushes the bike to move faster down the path. 

Eventually, the track begins to widen, and Marko tentatively loosens his grip on the throttle, allowing the bike to roll through the thick sludge. He slows to a stop just outside the entrance to the boardwalk and dismounts the vehicle, leaving it awkwardly propped up in the way. The rain only seems to be getting worse as Marko walks aimlessly through the boardwalk. It’s pretty much deserted, which provides him some comfort. At least he can grieve in peace. He takes notice of how the warm glow of the street lamps makes the droplets seem golden as they hit the glistening sidewalk, and the way the moon is veiled by a few thin clouds, as if in mourning.

You would have appreciated tonight’s beauty, Marko thinks, frowning at the sudden aching of his heart. He’s felt pain before, but nothing compares to this. It’s as if a part of him has been agonisingly carved out, leaving nothing but a dark, gaping wound that yearns for your company. Part of him wants to scream for you the way Dwayne did- to allow his feelings to swallow him whole and reduce him to the pain he feels, but he can’t. So instead, he swallows back the lump in his throat and blinks away his tears, allowing them to be washed away with the cool rain that streams down his face. 

Marko inhales the winter air somewhat shakily as he ponders on what to do. Truthfully, he isn’t sure why he drove himself here in the first place. The rain has completely soaked through his clothes and hair, and upon noticing this, he suddenly feels silly for coming all this way. Sure, the drive had helped distract him somewhat, but now that he’s here all by himself, his emotions only seem to be coming back worse than before.

Flashes of your sightless stare keep coming back in sickening waves, and Marko isn’t sure whether he wants to scream or cry. How could such an insignificant human like yourself have wormed your way into his life, only to suddenly disappear and leave him with nothing?

You were supposed to live forever. 

Marko clenches his fists as his pace quickens. He allows himself to indulge in fantasies of turning you, and imagines taking you on your first hunt. He thinks about the way your eyes would shine a brilliant gold as you tear into the flesh of your first victim, and how he’d tenderly wipe the blood from your mouth after. 

If only they hadn’t waited so long. 

Marko abruptly stops walking as a familiar scent graces his nose. Through the heavy scent of rain he detects the sweet tang of blood coming from somewhere nearby, and after a couple seconds of straining his ears, he can hear the steady beating of a heart. A small part of him wonders if it’s appropriate to kill someone so soon after your death, but his instincts are stronger than whatever shred of morality he has left, so he shakes off the thought and allows his bloodlust to guide his movements.

Once close enough, Marko stands perfectly still behind a pillar and draws in another breath. His whole body suddenly stiffens at the familiarity of it. For a split second, Marko is convinced that you’ve risen from the dead, but then he hears a barely audible hiss, and his shoulders drop in defeat. That fucking cat.

Your cat, Pumpkin, has a tendency to disappear for days at a time. Marko fondly recalls how worried you used to get when she’d run away, though his mood quickly sours as he remembers how disinterested you had been lately in regards to her whereabouts. You probably hadn’t even noticed she’d been gone. 

Marko carefully peers round the pillar, his eyes zeroing in on the scene before him. A few feet away, a woman is crouched in front of the small black cat. He notices how she’s cradling one hand in another, and makes the assumption that Pumpkin must have scratched her. A slight smirk tugs at Marko’s lips, and he feels an odd sense of pride. Your cat had basically led him to his next meal.

Unable to wait any longer, he casually ambles over, allowing his heavy footsteps to alert the stranger of his presence. She startles at the sound, whipping round to stare at him from under the bright hood of her windbreaker. Much to Marko’s surprise, the face he’s met with seems a lot closer in age to you than he had expected. It catches him off guard, but he is quick to regain his composure. 

“You uh- you seem awfully young to be hanging out here in the rain all by yourself,” He says, trying to find the perfect balance of intimidating yet somewhat trustworthy. 

The girl looks him up and down, and Marko is reminded of the state of his appearance. His clothes are splattered with mud, and his hair is likely so wet that the weight of it has reduced his curls to loose waves.

“You seem pretty young yourself,” She replies, confusion evident on her face as she cocks her head slightly. 

Marko quirks a brow at that, “I’m a lot older than you think.”

“Oh, really?” The girl’s demeanour suddenly shifts, and her eyes seem to darken with unspoken desire as she slowly stands up and closes the gap between them.

For a moment, Marko considers indulging in her little game, intoxicated by the scent of her teenage hormones, but then he remembers your tortured, dead eyes and is hit with a wave of nausea. She’s your age.

All he can muster as a reply is a simple “Mhm,” as he brings a gloved hand up to her throat and moves closer, leaning in so that his lips are mere millimetres away from her ear. It takes him a moment to get his words out, too overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of emotions assaulting his mind. “My daughter killed herself today. Do you know what that feels like? Seeing your kid’s dead body hanging from a noose?”

Marko pulls away and regards her horrified expression hungrily, slowly increasing the pressure on her neck. “I- I’m so sorry.. I didn’t realise you- I mean, you don’t look-”

“I asked you a fucking question. Do you know what that feels like?”

The girl shakes her head in response, clearly too frightened to speak.

Marko scoffs, “Of course you don’t. Your pathetic species is incapable of feeling emotions the same way mine does.” He pauses for a moment to inhale the scent of her fear before continuing, “She was worth so much more than you’ll ever be… and yet she’s dead and you’re here. It just doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

By now, the girl is trembling in his grip, staring at him through tearful eyes as she tries to stutter out a response, only to be cut off again.

“Do your parents love you? Do you think they’ll miss you?”

Marko can’t tell if his prey is actually nodding or if she’s just shaking too much. He doesn’t particularly care either way. “I guess there’s only one way to find out...”

The girl releases a choked scream as Marko’s hand slips down to her shoulder to make space for his mouth. In an instant, his teeth are latched onto the tender skin of her neck and he begins tearing away at the flesh. He can feel her desperately clawing at his jacket as his tongue pushes deep into the wound, savouring the metallic tang. 

Blood begins flowing more quickly into his mouth, running down his chin and getting caught in his hair as he shoves his victim into the wall of the souvenir shop behind her. The impact seems to drive his fangs further into her throat, as he feels a warm spray hit his nose and another gush of blood spill onto his tongue.

There’s one more slap against his bicep before the girl suddenly becomes limp in his grip and falls completely into his arms.

Marko physically recoils at the motion, roughly shoving the body away from him and taking a step back to glare at it. Blood continues gushing from her mangled neck, but he decides not to drink anymore of it. He doesn’t need to. This girl hadn’t died to be his prey; she had died because it was what she deserved. It was what her parents deserved too. The whole world should suffer the same anguish as him.

He stares at the body for what feels like hours, until a soft purring breaks his trance. Marko looks down to see your cat rubbing up against his legs. His first instinct is to kick it away, but something stops him. The action feels familiar, almost identical to how you used to hug his legs when you were little. 

With a resigned sigh, Marko bends down and scoops the cat up into his arms, staring deeply into her orange eyes. “She’s dead. It’s just you and me now.”

Pumpkin shows no signs of understanding him, but he knows that deep down she feels your absence as strongly as he does. That alone brings him more comfort than any amount of killing ever could. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Paul isn’t sure what he’s doing here. His bike has been parked on Max’s driveway for a good ten minutes now, but he still can’t bring himself to cross that damn bridge and knock on the door. Chances are, Max knows he’s here, so why hasn’t he come out? 

The rain seems to be pouring down heavier and heavier, as if urging him to do something. Paul throws back his head and runs his fingers through his wet, tangled hair with a groan. He feels pathetic coming to Max, but there isn’t anyone else to go to. Your absence feels like a stake to the heart, and he doesn’t know how to cope with the gaping hole that’s opened up inside him. David’s pissed, Marko’s gone, and Dwayne? Paul isn’t sure Dwayne will ever be the same again.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, he finally musters up enough willpower to walk across the bridge and knock on the front door, only having to wait a couple of seconds before it swings open. 

The expression on Max’s face makes Paul feel even more pitiful than he had before. His brows are stiffly furrowed, and his dark eyes hold an unusual mixture of sympathy and disdain. Neither men speak for a moment as they regard each other wearily. 

“You look awful.”

Paul tries to feign a laugh, but all that comes out is a tired huff. “I know.” 

“Would you like to come in?”

Well duh. I didn’t drive all this way just to stand on your porch.

Paul doesn’t vocalise the snarky reply that had leapt to the forefront of his mind. Instead, he nods meekly and steps inside without another word, grateful to be out of the vicious storm. Max is quick to close the door behind him. He regards Paul’s state with a displeased frown, noting how much water is dripping off clothes and onto the door mat. “Here- let me take that jacket off you.” His voice is gentle, although there’s a hint of authority in his words as he helps Paul out of the leather. 

“Sorry for turnin’ up like this- unannounced I mean.” He mumbles, not failing to notice the way Max is gingerly holding his jacket like it’s contaminated with some infectious disease. 

“It’s no problem,” Max replies as he fixes it onto the coat hanger, caught off guard by Paul’s manners. “When was the last time you fed?” He asks, leading the younger vampire through to the kitchen. 

Paul perks up slightly at the question, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room in search of a potential victim. “Why, you got someone in here for us to kill?”

Max stops in front of the fridge, “Well, not exactly…” He grips the metal handle and slowly opens the door to reveal what must be at least a hundred blood bags.

Paul’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “I’m not drinking that crap.”

“I understand that you’re upset Paul, but starving yourself of blood won’t make the pain go away. It’ll only make you weaker, and that’s not what you need right now.” 

Paul shifts slightly in discomfort, fighting to maintain a respectful attitude towards the senior vampire. “I don’t see how your shitty blood bags are supposed to make me feel any better about my kid committing suicide.” Saying the words out loud makes him realise the permanency of your death and fills him with an overwhelming sense of dread. You’re gone. Forever. He’ll never see your smile, or feel the warmth of your touch again. 

The kitchen starts spinning, and Paul stumbles back in a drunken manner. For the first time since he became a vampire, he feels scared. Everything had been so meticulously planned out that the possibility of a life without you hadn’t even crossed his mind before. He doesn’t know what to do.

A strong pair of hands suddenly grips Paul’s shoulders, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts. “Hey- listen to me. You boys will be ok. I know it hurts, and I know you miss her, but you’ll get through this. She wouldn’t want to see you getting this upset.”

Paul realises he must have been crying, because his face feels hot and sticky. He self consciously wipes away the tears and averts his gaze towards the floor, “I just wish she knew how much we cared about her. I know sometimes we-” Paul’s voice cracks as he speaks, “Sometimes we’d get carried away and hurt her, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love her.”

Max sighs and soothingly rubs Paul’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault Paul. She was a troubled child- something like this was bound to happen.”

In an instant the atmosphere seems to shift. All vulnerability in Paul’s face is gone as his jaw stiffens and his brows knit tightly into a frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, this isn’t the first time she’s had a depressive episode. David told me about how she used to hurt herself when she got upset, and how she’d steal your drugs. That’s how this whole ordeal started, isn’t it? David found the pills in her drawer.”

Paul bristles, “What are you trying to say Max? That something was wrong with her?”

“What I’m saying is that she was angry and unstable. The only reason she did this to herself was because she couldn’t do it to you. Had she been a vampire, it might have been one of you boys who ended up dead instead.” 

Logic gives way to anger as Paul shoves Max away from him. His teeth are bared in a savage display of aggression and his golden eyes glare wildly at the man before him. “My daughter would never do that, you don’t know what you’re talking about. She loved us just as much as we loved her, she just had trouble communicating that sometimes.”

Despite all his instincts screaming at him to retaliate, Max doesn’t react. He turns away from Paul and puts the blood bag back into the fridge with a sigh, before finally speaking. “I think you should leave. Go back to the cave and spend some time with the others- you shouldn’t try and navigate something like this alone.”

Paul scoffs in disbelief, “You’re kicking me out? My kid just died and you’re telling me to leave?”

“I can’t offer you the comfort you’re looking for.” The room falls silent. Max is still turned away, refusing to look Paul in the eye. 

“You know what? Fine. I don’t need you- coming here was a stupid idea.” 

Paul doesn’t wait for a reply. He marches through the poorly lit house, only stopping to snatch his leather jacket from the coat hanger before yanking the front door open in frustration. He can hear Max approaching from behind, but decides not to acknowledge his presence. Anger still burns hotly beneath his skin, and Paul knows that speaking his mind could risk a vicious fight sparking between them. One that may cost him his life.

“I need to talk to David. Tell him I expect a visit within the next few days.”

Paul’s only response is a silent nod. He waits for a moment to make sure Max has nothing else to say and then steps out into the rain. The door slams behind him with a heavy thud that's quickly followed by the soft clicking of a lock. 

“Fuck.” Paul spits out the word like it had personally wronged him. He can feel his eyes becoming wet again with the promise of more tears, but he makes no move to wipe them away. They aren’t gentle this time- these ones sting like acid and roll down his cheeks alongside the rain. Paul ignores them and walks dejectedly back to his bike. His Aerosmith t-shirt is already drenched, but he puts on his jacket anyway, grimacing slightly in discomfort as he wrestles his arms through the heavy sleeves. 

The bike waits patiently for him to mount it. Under the soft glow of the streetlight, the red paint appears more of a burnt orange, and Paul can see each individual raindrop plummeting down and splashing against his leather seat. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away, considering the weather has already ruined his white pants- a bit more rainwater won’t make a difference. Paul grips the handlebars and swings a leg over the hunk of metal with practiced ease. He takes a moment to adjust himself before twisting round to take one more look at the house.

You used to love visiting Uncle Max when you were little. Paul remembers the way you’d skip down his bridge, often tripping over your feet in your hurry to greet Thorn. Thinking about how happy you used to be somehow makes your father feel even worse. He knows that among the sharp claws of grief that tear at his heart, there’s something darker lurking. A vicious guilt he’s repressed for years- for the life they thrusted upon you, which you inevitably destroyed. You had every right to, as even after everything you had endured, it still belonged to you. 

And my life still belongs to me. Paul’s thoughts turn dark as he slowly begins to understand the pain you must have felt to commit to something so final. Was this your plan- to infect them with your suffering? He casts his gaze over to the sky, wondering if you’re watching him from above. Would you want him to do this? The sun has yet to paint the horizon gold, but judging by the dreary blueish-grey that has taken over the earlier darkness, Paul knows it won’t be long until sunrise. He’s running out of time to choose. Stay or go; live or die. The decision comes down to one question he never thought he’d have to answer: you or them.

Paul closes his eyes and listens to the gentle ambiance of the early morning. He prays to you for guidance- for any indication of what to do, but receives no answer. This choice is for him to make alone. 

He knows what he must do.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Time has lost its meaning. Dwayne doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on your cold floor with a stillness that could rival an ancient statue. Maybe he’s only been here for a few hours… or maybe it’s been days. It’s all the same now. No one has dared to check on him yet. It must seem distasteful for them to enter the site of such a tragedy. Perhaps they feel it is not their place to infiltrate what had once been your safe haven. They’re wrong. He thinks, finally moving a hand to trace the side of your face with his thumb. This place is just a room. It may be your room, but it’s still just a room. 

It was him that made you feel safe, not your bedroom. Dwayne knows that in the past few weeks he had been failing at that. It should make him feel guilty- it did at first. He had cried and screamed your name until his throat was dry and swallowing became painful. Then it all went away. All the grief and guilt he felt was gone, and in its place came an unsettling calmness he has never felt before. Acceptance.

He’s come to terms with this reality. You’ll never wake up, but that's ok; you don’t need to. Dwayne is content with holding you in his lap. He wants to savour every last moment with you before he’s truly ready to let go. Perhaps that’s why he’s afraid to leave your room. That would mean moving away from what has happened, and he can’t do that yet. 

Once he does though, he knows that he’ll be ok. Dwayne isn’t afraid to die anymore, in fact he is quietly longing for the end of his life. The past feels like some hazy dream, and the future is incomprehensible. All that exists now is the present, which he will continue to live in until even that becomes unrecognisable. And then I will be free to join you forever, my precious girl.

A sudden thud against your doorframe drags Dwayne from his thoughts, though he makes no move to even look at the people there. He already knows that it’s David and Marko.

“Hey man…” Marko’s voice sounds rough and tired, taking on an uncharacteristically serious tone. “I- We think it’s time we should bury her.”

Dwayne tenses and brings your body up to his chest, still refusing to look in Marko’s direction. “No, she’s not ready yet. Give us more time.”

“You’ve been in here for a week, Dwayne. Cmon, you can’t hold on to her forever.” Dwayne finally snaps his head round to look at them when he hears Marko taking a step closer. He’s holding a small black cat in his arms with a defeated look on his face. Dwayne instantly notices the redness of his eyes, and realises that this might be the first time he has ever seen Marko cry.

Behind him, David is leaning unsteadily against the doorframe. The expression on his face suggests he might have something to say, but Dwayne assumes by the way he’s struggling to hold himself up that he’s too drunk to piece together something meaningful enough to say. If he wasn’t in such a state himself, maybe he would’ve found the sight of them pathetic. Instead, it only reinforces what he already knew. The pack won’t be able to manage without you. 

“Where’s Paul?”

Marko shifts uncomfortably, averting his gaze to the floor. “We haven’t seen him since she…” He trails off and gestures towards you, unable to finish his sentence.

“So you wanna do this without him?” Dwayne asks flatly, his eyes flicking towards the cat. Why was that stupid thing here? He’d sort of hoped it had run away, or been hit by a car.

“We can’t wait for him anymore. I mean, for all we know he could be- he might not come back.” 

Dwayne doesn’t speak. Beneath the cold apathy that has numbed his mind, there’s traces of sadness. Not for Paul, who likely is dead, but for Marko. He looks completely defeated: shoulders slumped and head heavy as he glances back up at Dwayne. There’s a sliver of hope in his eyes, as if he’s quietly optimistic that things will get better. 

My death will push him over the edge. Dwayne thinks as he frowns at Marko, suddenly unsure about whether or not killing himself would be a good idea. Is this really the end? He can’t imagine a future without you, and now that Paul may be gone too, things seem even more bleak. What does Marko see in the ruins of their lives that’s worth living for?

“It doesn’t even look like her anymore…” Huh? The statement catches Dwayne off guard. He had expected Marko to press him to speak, or try and offer some words of comfort- not this.

“Look at her. Actually look at her this time. That’s not our kid anymore, that’s a dead body. She’s gone.” Dwayne reluctantly shifts his gaze back down to your face and looks at you properly. Not through those rose tinted lenses of who you had been, but through the clear, cold truth. No filters this time, no memories, just fact. And the fact is, Marko is right. Your skin is tinged with green and peeling away like layers of old wallpaper. His heart sinks. It’s time to let you go.

“I don’t wanna do it either, but we can’t just sit here watching her rot away.”

Dwayne slowly nods and carefully stands up, still tightly clinging onto your body. He can feel his joints clicking and legs trembling with the effort of moving after such a long period of stillness. 

“So this is it. Nearly a decade of raising that child, and now we’re gonna bury her.” He’d forgotten that David was here too, leaning against the doorframe looking slightly dazed, as if he hadn’t expected those words to come slurring out his mouth. 

Dwayne bristles slightly and shoots him a glare, “I’d hardly say you raised her. You didn’t do shit.” To his surprise, David doesn’t argue back. His brows twitch slightly and he averts his gaze, as if in shame. 

Marko rests a placating hand on Dwayne’s shoulder, having to reach up slightly due to the height difference, “Now’s not the time. We’re all upset- and he’s been drinking non-stop since she died. He isn’t in the right frame of mind for this.”

When did Marko of all people become the peacekeeper around here? Dwayne muses, surprised by how composed he has kept himself. I suppose people tend to react differently in a time of crisis. 

Marko’s hand leaves Dwayne’s shoulder as he leads the two remaining members of their pack through the cave. It’s more cluttered and unkept than he remembers, with glass bottles (some empty, others not) laying discarded all over the floor and on just about every surface there is. The whole area reeks of vodka and beer and… weed? 

“He’s been smoking?” Dwayne murmurs, eying David as he stumbles towards the cave entrance, either not knowing or not caring about the conversation going on behind him. 

Marko shrugs tiredly, “I think he got into Paul’s weed stash. I mean, someone might as well smoke it, since he’s not here.” A heavy silence falls between the two men. They hadn’t stopped to grieve Paul yet. Maybe because they can’t cope with acknowledging another loss right now, or maybe they’re still clinging to the hope that he’s out there somewhere, mourning all by himself. 

They finally reach the top of the cliff, where three bikes have been left to bask under the soft glow of the moon. David is standing right at the edge, staring out at the sea with his back to them. Dwayne watches him for a moment before glancing back at Marko. “I think we should let her drift out into the sea.”

Marko turns to him, surprise etched onto his features. “You don’t wanna bury her?”

Of course he wants to bury you. In fact, part of him wants to consume your blood so that you’ll be with him forever, but he knows deep down that all you wanted was to be free. No matter how much that fact stings, he can’t ignore what he knows is the truth.

“She’d prefer to be in the water.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth for a split second, “Do you remember how the five of us used to go down to the beach? I always told her not to get in the water cause she’d freeze, but then you’d grab her by the hand and run in with her.” 

A quiet huff escapes Marko’s lips. It’s not quite a laugh, but it’s enough. A flash of hope that lingers in the air, whispering that maybe, just maybe things will turn out ok. The two of them walk towards David, who doesn’t acknowledge them. Marko clears his throat awkwardly, “Should- should we say something? Like a goodbye?”

Dwayne shakes his head. He knows that all their goodbyes have already been said in the privacy of their minds. Silent prayers only meant for you to hear. To say them out loud would be too performative. “No, we should just let her go,” he replies quietly, taking another step forward so that the edges of his boots are in line with the edge of the cliff. Dwayne looks down at you one last time and places a gentle kiss upon your forehead. He ignores the coldness of your skin, and simply savours the feeling of having you in his hold one last time, before he stretches out his arms and lets you go.

One final act of love. One that has set you free forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tag list- @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @whatispopping69 @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @humbuginmybones @thelostboysforeva @bella-goths-wife

If any of you guys have changed your usernames and want me to update the list just let me know cause I don’t think all of those work 🙏

[male-duckk]

just found out abt the last beatles song coming out. i’m emotional

[hwas]

this tour is gonna be a whore fest

[coquelicoq]

listened to my yunmeng shuangjie playlist for the first time in a couple years and some of these songs are apropos af. others, not so much, but i can at least make a guess as to what i was going for with most of them. in no particular order:

what human by the killers is doing on here i haven't the first idea except i assume it must be about one or the other of the golden core sacrifices. but which one, and how, i couldn't tell you.

all i really want by alanis is on here which is a) hilarious and b) soooo true bestie omg my mind.

the playlist also includes the way we were which i am 90% sure was 75% a joke, but the other 25% is that what's too painful to remember we simply choose to forget has wei wuxian written all over it.

i don't know what i thought i was doing putting psycho killer on here except that i don't have a wwx-only playlist so this was the next best thing i guess, or maybe you could make the argument that the 'when i have nothing to say my lips are sealed' verse is jiang cheng coded? it's both of them coded frankly. they're both disasters.

there are three guster songs which seems excessive given there are only 21 songs total, and probably there's no reason for me to have included amsterdam except i bet it's in my divorce playlist and maybe i was just adding all my favorite breakup songs? unclear. (but in support of this hypothesis i present exhibit a: don henley's the heart of the matter, of which i have performed many a dramatic rendition in the shower while angsting about various failed relationships.) demons however is extremely on the money and fa fa has a good level of thematic resonance i think.

i still think fix you is a freakishly good representation of wei wuxian's approach to the golden core transfer. definitely my favorite of the golden core subgenre. golden corecore if you will.

the next time fleetwood mac wants to perform go your own way in concert i think they could just play the clip of jiang cheng telling wei wuxian he can't protect him if he insists on protecting the wen. same effect and they can rest their voices for a minute. take a lil water break.

memories can't wait (apparently i was listening to a lot of guster AND a lot of talking heads) is i guess about jiang cheng haunted by the ghosts of shixiongs past but it seems a bit of a stretch now if i'm honest.

i actually love the background by 3eb as jiang cheng post wwx's death. i've always dug that song but never understood the lyrics but now i'm like. well clearly it is about this exact situation. try to keep up. motorcycle drive by (i was listening to a lot of guster, a lot of talking heads, and a lot of 3eb) is maybe less obvious but the vibes do check out. jiang cheng has never felt so alone and he's never felt so alive (derogatory??).

doesn't remind me is mostly a list of very specific and random nouns that are not at all relevant here but the chorus is doing something for me. however i don't think it is quite an accurate representation of wei wuxian's character OR of what he believes his character to be. so this one could probably go. the way we were did it better 🙄

over my head (cable car) and your winter are just quintessential sibling angst to me, and not just to me but also to 1) the fray (the singer has said that over my head is about a fight he had with his brother) and 2) whoever decided to play your winter right after kat and bianca's fight in 10 things i hate about you. see, i have backup.

ordinary by train is like. somewhat related?? but i can't figure out whose perspective it's from. not a great fit all told but the bridge is 🥺 (i want that for them!!) and i am perhaps biased by the huge soft spot i will always have for the spider-man 2 soundtrack.

absolutely zero by jason mraz is clearly guanyin temple BUT jiang cheng thinks it's about jiang cheng and wei wuxian thinks it's about wei wuxian. lol!!!! clowns. are they wrong though

i put nickelback on here. can't say i'm surprised given how much fun i had with how you remind me as a teen but also, like with absolutely zero, i think maybe they both think this song is about them and that's what makes it so crunchy. they don't have all the facts!! i'm insane about them.

and so it goes as a yunmeng bro song came directly from the genius brain of @winepresswrath and i haven't been able to listen to that song since without thinking of jiang cheng. and i would choose to be with you, that's if the choice were mine to make...but you can make decisions too, and you can have this heart to break? SHUT UPPPPPP

and of course i had to end it with neil diamond's version of he ain't heavy...he's my brother. classic. can't imagine any more fitting sendoff. wei wuxian is singing it through gritted teeth willing it to be true. jiang cheng is occasionally doodling the lyrics in his diary and then burning the diary to ashes and then throwing the ashes in the lake. the load doesn't weigh him down. at ALL. he ain't heavy. like dude...thats his brother...

[icantalk710]

CLAP YOUR HANDS SAY YEAHHH 👏🏽🗣️

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

top 5 wips you’re most excited to write? :D

AH …. anon my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 tysm for giving me an excuse to talk about them!!!! i have a whole bunch but here are the ones i’m most excited for/planning to write soon :3 hopefully

TITLES ARE STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION BTW but if you know where any of them are from you get a big gold star ⭐️

it’s your touch that i need

the best friend’s brother!satoru fic that i’m planning on posting next….. i’m . Unsure if i’ll have time to post it this week but :’3 i’ll get it done!!! honestly i just think bfb!toru is insanely attractive so this is mostly an outlet for that but . i have a plot mapped out kind of… the unrequited love trope is just perfect for him but it’s Me so it’ll probably be less angsty and more funny/bittersweet !!

here’s a snippet from it <3

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.” the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this? it’s a specific kind of torture. he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. there are lots of people out there for you. (i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know. but i want you.)

hunter, you were human

my neglected mer!sugu fic…… our beloved fish man….. one day. i’ll write it out. i’m having some trouble deciding the order of events + general formatting of the outline so 😭😭 i’m a bit stuck. i’ll get there though!!! this au has angst potential but it’s Me so trust that this will be fluffy and nothing else. lots of banter and cutesy moments. i have a lotttt of thoughts about this au and character/reader dynamic so….. i’m. really excited to eventually write it all out!!! i love him sm :cc

“i don’t really like freshwater.” … your eyes widen. his voice is silky, smooth, like a silver river running from the forked tip of his tongue; a melodic lilt that makes you think of the lullaby your mother used to sing you to sleep with. a long, slow moment passes you by, like the rocking of a rusty ship. silently, your tongue forms around a bundle of words, your mouth gaping like a fish out of water. staring at the merman in your bathtub. “you can talk?!”

consider the hairpin turn

THE BELOVEDEST OF THEM ALL …… my extremely neglected best friend’s brother!kenjaku fic T_T my magnum opus even . i started writing it out a while ago but had to stop bc i can’t decide how to format it …. i think it’d be best to tell the story through a lot of flashbacks but it’s difficult to decide where to put what flashbacks in a way that doesn’t disturb the flow, yk??? but i do have everything outlined and i’m super excited to finally post it :33 someday… bfb!kenny is the actual loml i have so much lore planned for him. this fic is just a whole bunch of yearning and tension… the tiniest tiniest bit suggestive bc he truly makes me ill.

nervously, your gaze trails towards the stairs. worried, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. kenjaku notices. a large palm cradles your cheek; making sure your eyes stay locked onto his own. ”don't worry about him,” he soothes, a rough thumb smoothing down your skin. ”it’s just us here… just you and me. why don’t you take a deep breath for me, hm?” (you do. without thinking. as if your body was waiting for instructions, waiting to satiate this gnawing desire to impress him, make him proud. be good for him.)  “now,” he exhales, in tandem with you, molecules mingling together. “do you want this?” 

only in the next world

ANOTHER DEARLY BELOVED WIP that’s been rotting in my drafts for a while ….. 👉👈 i think that out of all of these fics this is the first one that i wrote the outline to?? probably even before i made this blog. it’s basically just a canon-aligned au where gojo navigates his maybe-possibly-feelings for you, a new teacher at jujutsu high!! sooo really just my attempt to write what i view as a more canon-aligned gojo and his feelings towards love :3 mostly character-centered fluff and slowburn… some office au vibes…. i’m very fond of this reader!! and i love this version of gojo so bad i really hope i can do him justice…

“they’re a softie, huh?” shoko exhales — smoke drifting past her lungs, mingling with the cold air, a stench of tobacco that makes him crinkle his nose. ”they are,” she hums, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. a dangerously knowing look. “it’s not often someone captures your attention.” gojo smiles. ”is that what it seems like?” he drawls, almost a chuckle. closing his eyes and thinking of you, the fading scent of your perfume. ”well, who knows.” (certainly not him.)

signs of affection

my sickeningly fluffy cult leader geto fic <333 bc i’m spreading the agenda that he is a puppy of a man towards his s/o. this one is just meant to be funny and sweet!! i adoreee the thought of him dating a retired sorcerer with a normal ass job so in this one the reader works at a preschool…. and they’re meant to attend some kind of event for the preschool + is offered to bring a plus one. mild chaos ensues (geto doesn’t want to be anywhere near your non-sorcerer colleagues but he also wants to support you so he’s having a bit of a crisis rn…..) i LOVE this one and i’m so excited to write it out <333333 i think this geto is the most endearing man alive.

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering, gleaming under the shallow light of the lamppost just behind him. illuminating the peach-dyed flush dusting his ears, those wide pupils. and his lips, glossy with something cherry-flavoured, soon to curl up into a smile — fond, fond, fond. melting into your touch, basking in your long-sought attention. if he were a cat, you’re sure he'd be purring. he places one big palm over yours, where it rests on his cheek, and he stares. silently, like you’re the only thing worth seeing; dreamy galaxies inside his eyes, all honey and star clusters, leaking adoration. a milky way of love. ”… another,” he pleads, nosing at your fingertips.

[avirael]

This Home of Mine

How had it come to this?, Aviloh asked himself as the argument around him began to get louder. Somehow he had known it would all end horribly one day. He just had hoped it would take a little longer. He only had himself to blame for this, he thought as his eyes fearfully scanned the crowd that was slowly gathering around them.

There at the sidelines stood U‘khaya with a gleeful expression on her face. She knew this would happen, he realised. But A’viloh wasn’t the kind of person to blame her for what happened…

U‘khuba‘s twin sister had always been following the boys around even when they all had still been kids. She had been a brave and stubborn little girl, maybe a little mean sometimes but not more so than her brother. A‘viloh had always thought she was following them because of Khuba - twins being inseparable or something. Never had he imagined the reason would be Laqa instead.

Of course he could have guessed it. Everyone loved Laqa! Apparently Khaya wasn’t an exception in this matter.

That evening - before the argument - A‘viloh had waited for quite some while by the pond. They had always used to hide there when they still had been kids, every time the other boys had stirred trouble or teased the girls.

By now it was one of the spots Laqa and him sometimes used as meeting points when they sneaked out of the settlement together. But today the other Miqo’te had arrived so late, A‘viloh had already started to wonder if something had happened.

“There you are!”, Aviloh said relieved as Laqa finally appeared just when he was about to go searching for him. “I was already worried. Did something happen?”

The blonde Miqo’te made an annoyed face. “Just Khaya happened…”

A’viloh didn’t understand. “Khaya? What’s wrong with her?”

“Everything apparently!”, Laqa exclaimed disgruntled, which made A‘viloh even more confused.

Laqa sighed.

“She waylaid me on my way outside.”, he explained but couldn’t help to look a little angry still. “Started talking some nonsense about how impressed she was about the quarry from our last hunt and how it is a shame that it isn’t me leading the tribe instead of father.”

A’viloh furrowed his brows, still not quite connecting the dots. Laqa grimaced. “Then she threw herself at me and tried to kiss me.”

“She what?”, A‘viloh exclaimed a little louder than intended, with a mix of shock and disbelief on his face.

Laqa raised his hands in a calming manner. “Don’t worry! I of course told her that I am not interested. Like I ever would be anyway! We may be almost the same age but she is still my mother’s sister. What was she even thinking, Vi?”

A‘vi shrugged but couldn’t help to remember something one of Laqa’s sisters had once told him. “Lamana mentioned that Khaya didn’t agree with some of U‘odh‘s opinions. She thought her and Khuba were still mad with him because of their father…”

“That makes no sense! They have no reason for that! It’s not like father threw them all out!”, Laqa said annoyed. “Alone because of mom he wouldn’t have! Anyway, grandpa had been old already, if not father then someone else would sooner or later have challenged him. All of them were always treated equally. Why would they be mad?”

A’viloh gave another shrug and smiled weakly. “Maybe it’s none of that and she really just is a little in love with you… I can’t blame her…”

Laqa lightly glared at him, as if he wanted to say “this isn’t funny”, but couldn’t help to grin himself.

“It’s still absurd!”, he said while shaking his head.

“You think?”, A‘viloh asked and chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half the village was secretly in love with you.”

Laqa made a sound somewhere between an annoyed huff and a suppressed laugh. Then he stretched out a hand for A‘viloh to take. As A‘viloh did so Laqa pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him. “Too bad for them that the only one I will ever love is you.”

All too willingly - too carelessly! - A’viloh melted into the other Miqo’te’s embrace. Laqa saying things like this never failed to give him a warm and fuzzy feeling. Just as much as Laqa kissing him always made his heart skip a beat and his mind go silent.

Gently A‘viloh wrapped his arms around the taller Miqo’te’s neck, like an invitation to pull him even closer and deepen their kiss, when suddenly a sound appeared nearby. Their ears, currently slightly drooped, attentively shot up and both Miqo’te instinctively turned to see where the unexpected sound had come from.

Without doubt, there by one of the larger rocks nearby, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief, stood a Miqo’te girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes.

Khaya!

This was the exact moment A‘viloh knew he was in trouble.

“Khaya…”, Laqa was the first one to find his voice again. He sounded almost as if he wanted to reassure a shy animal, but it only made the girl unfreeze, whirl around and run away. “No! Khaya, wait!”, Laqa called and ran after her. He probably wanted to explain, wanted to beg her to stay silent, but A‘viloh knew it was too late already.

With his heart hammering against his chest and his thoughts racing he stood there and just watched them go. For a second he wondered what he should do now. But he had nowhere else to go, probably no one else who would defend him apart from Laqa. So slowly he followed them back to the settlement, wishing he could just vanish into thin air.

***

“Tell me this isn’t the thruth.”, U‘odh demanded from his son. His voice was still relatively calm but there already was a tone in it, a kind of threatening sound that also reflected on his face.

For a moment the thought crossed A’viloh’s mind, that Laqa could simply have lied. That he simply could have denied everything. Maybe, just maybe, his father would have believed him.

But that wasn’t like Laqa.

“It’s true!”, Laqa admitted and turned his face a little bit to look at A‘viloh, who so far had stood a few steps behind him, trying to stay out of U’odh’s attention. “A‘vi and I are a couple.”

A murmur went through the crowd and somehow even A‘viloh felt surprised to hear him say this so bluntly for everyone to hear. U‘odh laughed, but it lacked any humor. A’viloh already looked very uncomfortable but when the nunh’s sharp eyes landed on him, he almost flinched away and cast his eyes down to the ground.

“That weak little welp?!”, U’odh spat out, speaking to his son but still looking and pointing at A’viloh. “What do you want with him?! He’s good for nothing!”

A’viloh had never quite understood this either. There were so many better people than him and still Laqa had chosen him instead. Carefully A‘viloh glimpsed up at Laqa and could see his whole body tense up against the nunh’s insulting words. Stubbornly Laqa stared into his father’s eyes and growled.

“Don’t you dare to speak of him like that! I don’t care if he can fight or not, he is kind and wonderful and I love him!”

But U‘odh simply shook his head and laughed condescendingly.

“Love?! Don’t be foolish now… you know nothing about love.”

That had been too much for Laqa.

Usually no one dared to speak up against U‘odh no matter how harsh his words sometimes were. But Laqa, in a way just like his father and in another just like his mother, never had known how to back down. The anger about the situation and also about his father didn’t help, so his next words sounded especially blunt and sharp, more so than he probably truly thought.

“More than you! You wouldn’t recognise love if it stood right in front of you! Because you are just a bitter resentful man who doesn’t know how to love!”

Shocked gasps sounded from the crowd and everybody stared at either Laqa or his father, waiting for a reaction. For a few long seconds both remained silent. But while Laqa just stared at the older Miqo’te with a stubborn, unyielding face, the nunh‘s face changed slowly but entirely. All the mockery faded from his face and instead his expression turned to an angry snarl.

A‘viloh knew he would only end up in the crossfire but if he didn’t do something now, they would certainly fight and that was the last thing any of them could want. He didn’t really know what to say but scraped up all his bravery and stepped forward a bit. Trying to divert their attention from each other he spoke up, still quiet but clearly audible against this deadly silence.

“Please stop, I don’t —“

But U’odh wasn’t going to listen to whatever he had to say. Furiously he whirled towards him and stepped closer with wild rage in his eyes.

“No one allowed YOU to speak, you pathetic little weakling! Get out of my sight, you are none of my kin and I never want to see your whiny face again! You are nothing but a parasite and I have suffered your presence here for long enough! Begone! You are no longer welcome here!”

Of course. A‘viloh had expected this but it still hurt to hear these words out loud. He tried not to cry but already looked quite miserable already, even without tears. U’odh however wasn’t done with him yet.

“Oh, how I regret the day I allowed you to stay here! I wish you had just died with the rest of your miserable family!”, the nunh hissed and looked as if he was about to attack A‘viloh with more than just hurtful words.

With tears in his eyes A‘viloh shivered in fear and flinched away. He had never seen U’odh so furious before. But before the man could loose his self-control entirely and really tried to strike at him, Laqa stepped between them and protectively wrapped his arms around A‘viloh.

Instantly everything went silent again. Everyone seemed shocked by what had happened or what U’odh had just said. Even the nunh himself seemed stunned when he saw his son’s disgusted face, staring at him. But U‘odh was not the kind of man to give in or admit his failures. Instead he quietly but sharply said, “Don’t look at me so. My word is final. He is none of our family and I want him gone by tomorrow.”

With a strange mixture of defiance and sadness Laqa looked at his father for a moment, before he spoke.

“In that case I don’t consider you my family any longer either. A place where A‘vi isn’t welcome I cannot call my home. If you send him away, I will go with him!”

Briefly a shadow crossed his face but then U’odh looked entirely unfazed again.

“Where would you even go?”, he asked and shook his head dismissively.

“Anywhere but here...”, Laqa replied coldly and turned to A’viloh. “Let’s go and pack our things.”

All of this had happened so suddenly A’viloh still could not quite believe it. No matter what U’odh had said, for him this place was still his home and the people here the closest thing he had to a family. He didn’t want to leave.

“What? Now?”, he asked and pleadingly looked to Laqa, hoping that there was some way to make everything right after all.

“Yes! I’m sure we can stay with the Flames for one night and tomorrow morning we leave.”

His decision seemed to be final, just as U’odh’s. What was A’viloh supposed to do against that?

Laqa made a point of taking A‘viloh’s hand so everyone could see it and knew to whom his loyalty belonged. Slowly he let his gaze wander over the crowd of curious faces giving them one last chance to speak up but they all remained silent.

With a last disappointed look at his father he turned around and walked away, unconcerned that they all stared at them as they left.

[fairyoffriendship]

Who would suit the Lemon Drop concept and why is it Vagastrom?

Probably because Alan and Leo, for some fucking reason, give me Mingi and Wooyoung energy. (Don't ask about Leo giving me Wooyoung energy— idfk. Wooyoung is better than Leo, let's be so for real)

Obviously Haru would also fit that concept (hello, he gives me Hongjoong energy)

Anyway.

[seaofreverie]

The tracklist of MAD! is much wilder than the tracklist of Frowning Face and that makes me feel so joyous

[opqrstuv04]

Still thinking about Hozier and am currently feeling incredulous about the “fairy goblin gentle bog man” perception so many people have of him. WHERE did that all come from??? Solely from Wasteland, Baby???? Listening back to self titled is insane because nearly all of the songs are overtly or subtextually sexual or political, or both! Take Me to Church goes straight into Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene, there’s a brief upbeat interlude with Someone New but goes right back into it with To Be Alone. It Will Come Back. Foreigner’s God!! The “goblin”est songs off this album as far as I can pick are In a Week and Like Real People Do, and even those are so much richer than -core ing them enables them to be. For 2014 I’d say this is music that borders on gritty and morbid, it’s not designed to be palatable. AND YET!! The complexity of Hozier’s music being boiled down to an easily accessible aesthetic makes me want to 💥💥💥‼️

[waywardsalt]

tbh theres probably not going to be all that much studying stuff in the bellum x linebeck fic bc tbh there isn’t a ton there and everything else is going on. prolly just some general linebeck watching him do stuff and being rlly curious abt the way he works between everything else going on

[streetcornertwoam]

I know when a pairing truly has entered my mind and refuses to leave, when I'm randomly just listening to my playlist and hear a song and immediately they come to mind

jfc

not me cackling to myself at 3 am while listening to Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" thinking about Aziraphale and Crowley

[liinos]

listening to itzy music is like snorting a line for me tbh