#and i changed the blog around a little too; just for the record

[pepsimanan]

Heeeyyyyy could you draw Hanami Hoshino? She's a little fairy so I think you'll like her :3

#29 hanami hoshino

[feedthefandomfest]

Comment Bingo: Old Fic Edition

Very simple rules: connect 5 squares in a line by commenting on fics that suit the task in each square

Very simple goals: encourage readers to comment on older fics; encourage fandom writers to KEEP WRITING

STEPS:

Download Bingo Card HERE (png) or HERE (jpg) or HERE (pdf)

Complete the tasks on the card, marking off each as you go, until you've completed 5 in a line (vertical, horizontal, or diagonal; NO double-dipping; center ♥️ is a free space)

POST your winning card (or list your filled squares) and tag @feedthefandomfest! Glory in your victory.

SEARCH TIPS:

This card requires some familiarity with AO3's search filters. Once you've narrowed your results according to fandom/ship/additional tags, certain squares require you to sort the results by Date Updated, which is the default. Other squares require you to search for fics posted within a certain range of years, which you can do by scrolling on the search menu to More Options:

Note that to enter a date range, you must format the date as shown.

REWARD:

✨ victory badges ✨

New badge for this card, but here are examples from previous cards:

Tag me when you earn a bingo (or double, triple, quadruple... FULL CARD bingo) and I'll reblog a shiny badge with your name on it to commemorate the win.

FAQ:

Can I comment on tumblr or only on AO3?

Either one is great! This card especially is more designed with AO3 in mind, but some can be adjusted to suit tumblr as well, so I say go for it. Tumblr fics deserve love, too.

Can one comment count toward multiple squares if the fic fits more than one category?

Since the goal is for as many fics to receive comments as possible, try to comment on a different fic for each square.

Is there a time limit?

Nope! Take your time or set your own deadline, whatever works for you. This blog is still in its early experimental stage, so feedback welcome. Play around and let me know what you like and what might be added/changed—including ideas for squares on future cards!

Do I have to record progress on the actual card?

Nope! If it’s easier to keep track in a different way, that’s fine. This is all very honor system, so if you say you earned a Bingo, we’ll call it a win 🎉

Some people have been tracking not just completed tasks, but the fics they read along the way, so that when they post a bingo, they can also promote the fics/authors in a little rec list. Not required, but definitely cool to see!

Can I adjust the task in a particular square to suit my comfort level?

Of course! If you deliver something in the spirit of the task, then it’s all good. Use your best judgement in constructing a comment that will make the author smile, and you can consider it a job well done.

In general, so long as each square has produced at least one comment, you’re golden and I salute you 🫡

Happy commenting!!

[topherwrites]

𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘛, 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙

summary - a saturday morning, and I love you on the tip of both your tongues.

pairing - bob floyd x (gn!)reader

word count - 2.1k

rating - nsfw content, 18+, mdni!

content warnings & tags - no use of (y/n) / fluff / slightly h*rny fluff / bob's love language being acts of service / the peak fantasy of homeownership / bob floyd being the ideal man™ / lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: time for my bi-yearly fic drop, lol! i wrote this in semi-conjunction with this moodboard. (a.k.a i started this months ago.) everyone who said they want to live in it... same. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Your boyfriend has disappeared.

Even before your eyes are open and your brain is semi-functioning, you feel the lack of his presence, the sheets next to you devoid of his usual space heater existence. You touch the left side—his side—double checking—hoping, really—that you won’t have to peel yourself out of bed to search for him.

A cascade of orange and pink spills through your curtains, painting your room in soft light, letting you know it has to be before seven. With a groan, you check your clock, confirming your suspicions. The time reads a quarter past six—far too early for you.

Not nearly as agonizing for him, one of those irritating early riser types, but Bob is diligent about letting you know when he’s leaving for his early morning runs, a kiss planted to your temple, and a ‘be back soon’—just a little moment in case you have to leave for work before he gets back.

But it’s Saturday, and you had plans of lazing about in bed until at least eleven, preferably with him. 

Your brow creases as you push up onto your elbows, slowly blinking around your room as if your boyfriend will just appear in front of you, and you won’t have to pull yourself out from under the covers to try to coax him back to bed.

As of late, it’s like he gets struck by a whim, and his body is overcome with the need to check it off a list, unable to rest until he does—changing your oil at ten o’clock at night, fixing the light in your fridge that flickers before he heads off for a run, trying to fix the leaky pipes under your en-suite sink—he did eventually give up on that one and call a plumber. Thank god.

Part of you has just taken it as part of his job and personality—he likes getting up as the sun does, he likes fixing things, and his job is a stressor, you're sure. But it doesn't feel work-related, so part of you is beginning to wonder if it’s you. 

An ugly little thought that you can recognize has no factual basis. He’s never been anything but honest with you, open and vulnerable, even when you’ve guarded yourself.

As a result, you tuck it away, considering that he’s off on another one of his little quests. They’re things that always make you feel cared for and thought about—weeding or checking the pressure on your tires or rearranging his kitchen so you can reach the things you frequently use.

So, as you begin to pressure yourself to leave your cocoon of early morning sleepiness, a quiet metal-against-metal clattering floats down the hall and through the crack in your bedroom door, catching your attention.

Slipping out of bed, you pad down the hall, sleep shirt brushing your thighs. Growing nearer to the sound of the soft noise—clearly being sensitive to try not to wake you—-you catch soft guitar strings and the twang of John Prine and Iris DeMent coming from your grandma’s old record player.

You cringe as your foot touches the cold tile lining the floor and immediately regret not rummaging around for your slippers.

You find Bob there, posted at the counter as he cuts something at a butcher board, only wearing the sweats he went to bed in. He's still warm despite the lack of clothing and the countertop fan blowing at him.

At the arch entry, you stop and watch him for a moment, entranced by the way his broad shoulders and the muscles of his back move with the motion—by the sight of him in your kitchen. Something so distinctly domestic and intimate about it.

Completely focused on his task, he doesn't hear you come up behind him. He slightly jumps under your touch as your hands slip around his middle, his stomach beneath your fingertips.

He makes a short noise of surprise that washes into a gentle greeting, his voice low, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You press your lips to his shoulder blade, enjoying the feeling of his skin against your own.

You've clearly ruined some sort of surprise, but you can't feel too bad at the sight of his eyes still clouded by sleep and the odd angles his hair sticks up.

Keeping his eyes on the cuts he’s making, Bob briefly twists around to press a kiss to your temple as he mumbles, “Go back to bed.”

You just hum, beginning to press kisses to the freckles that scatter along his shoulders, deepened by the tan he’s obtained from working in the flowerbeds that sit alongside your front door. The beds were slightly tragic before you began dating, some sort of sparse bushes planted there. They were alive at one point, you assume, but lying half dead and bare when you bought the place.

In no time at all, he had the beds torn up and replaced with bright white hydrangeas that now sit in full bloom under your front windows. Pink zinnias, sunny yellow goldenrods, and pale milkweeds—all chosen by him because they attract monarch butterflies during their migration—flank either side of the brown brick pathway. Cheek pressed to his skin; you cast a glance outside just as a small orange and black blur flits by the glass.

“So… where is it?”

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Bob casts a lost glance around the plant nursery’s vast outdoor gardens—bright pops of color among vast expanses of green, the high afternoon sun beating down on them—the acreage of it is astounding and certainly a workout.

You’re supposed to be picking up some mulch for the beds—but you keep getting sidetracked. Half your fault; you beeline for every slightly pretty plant, balancing it on the cart that’s rapidly becoming overloaded. The wheels digging heavily into the gravel pathways, little trenches left in your wake.

It’s early days with Bob Floyd, but he’s sweet and helpful and easy to get free labor out of—a big plus in your book.

On your first date, when he walked you to your front door, sweet and gentlemanly, you made a quick joke, a callback to your hinge profile. There, you had answered the prompt, I'm looking for…, with, ‘someone to put together my ikea bookshelf. seriously.’

Because, after two unsuccessful attempts to put it together and three months of it languishing in the corner of your living room, you were tired of feeling a pang of guilt every time you piled another book on top of the precarious stack teetering next to your reading chair.

Of course, on the date, you didn't actually expect him to do it. You made the joke as a way to test the waters, to see if he was open to coming inside without fully putting yourself out there that way.

But then he followed you in, sat himself down cross-legged on your living room rug, and got to work. You stood there in the doorway for a moment, warming even further to him. 

You poured a glass of wine for each of you, and watched his hands as he set joints together and tightened screws with a furrow between his brows. And despite his serious focus on the job, he continued asking you questions about your taste in books, your favorite bands growing up, what you liked about San Diego as you sat near—your only real contribution being the wine, simple conversation, and occasionally handing him a screw.

He’d finished near midnight, asked if you wanted help sorting your books, and when you said no, already mildly abashed at the fact that you’d set him to work on your first date, he’d given you a kiss goodnight on your cheek—chaste and unpresuming—and left it at that.

You’d fallen for him a little bit then and there.

Blinking, he stares down at the map once again—same furrow in his brow—turning it in his hands. Not sounding any more sure than he was a second ago, he points slightly westerly of you, “That way. I think.”

It draws a slight laugh from you. You lightly hip-check him, teasing over your shoulder, “Come on, farm boy, you’re supposed to be helping me.”

The scent of lemon carries inside from the open window over the sink, summer ripening the tree planted in your yard. That’s also when you spy past his shoulder a small stack of the same yellow fruit on the counter. A pancake crackles away on the stove.

Your voice is quiet—reticent to break the seal of this hushed moment—as you ask, “What are you making?”

Hands wandering mindlessly, your touch follows the trail of hair from his belly button, fingers sneaking only just under the waistband of his sweats, loosely hung on his hips. 

He seems to part with the idea of whatever he’s doing being a surprise, clear that you’re not going to accede to his request and tuck yourself back into bed, too awake now to do so.

“Pancakes,” he reveals, continuing to whip, “with lemon ricotta whipped cream.”

“Trying out a new recipe?”

His throaty laugh reverberates into your chest, shaking you. Your smile hikes higher before you even know what he’s laughing about—just enjoying the sound, the melody and the slight grit to it.

“Emphasis on trying,” he says, scooping a bit of the whipped cream onto his finger, offering it to you to taste. “Would you?”

You draw his finger into your mouth. It’s slightly sweet with a burst of tang, the sugar and cream mellowing out the sharper edges of the lemon flavor. A success, you think. As you draw back, you flash your gaze up and find his eyes unabashedly caught on your mouth.

You pull off and without breaking eye contact, breathily tease, “Lech.”

With a slight flush to his ears and cheeks, he laughs and leans in, nose brushing yours as he presses his lips to yours. His mouth slants over yours, insistent, his hand finds its way to cradle your jaw, tilt your head just right. It catches your breath, makes your toes curl against the tile.

You're still not entirely used to this, the sweetness of Bob Floyd. His eyes are soft as he pulls back, his thumbs sweeping along your cheeks. He clicks his tongue, cheekily muttering, “I think it’s good.”

His lips move to your cheek next, mumbling between a kiss there, “You're distracting.”

The gesture, so simple, makes your heart flip.

By this stage of dating you're usually spiraling, finding reasons that it won’t work out and tallying up slights so when the expected happens, you're not blindsided. Like it's a game you’ll win; perpetually preparing yourself for heartbreak. 

And it’s often been easy, dating men who were noncommittal or uninterested or flippant with affection made it so. They were easy to write off— jettison them from your life and think, onto the next. 

But everything has changed with him. There’s an ease to the intimacy, a frankness to him that makes that defense mechanism very difficult to muster. You're… settled.

And it should scare you, the way your heart is fully on the line, but then you catch sight of one of his dogeared-to-hell paperbacks in the living room or the little date night notes he leaves scribbled on the calendar that hangs next to the fridge or his mismatched colorful socks mixed in with your laundry and it doesn't. As simple as that.

You haven’t said the L word yet. But it’s there, dancing on the tip of your tongue every time you look at him.

Bob is near certain that this is love.

No, he supposes, he is certain. He’s mulled this particular topic over too much in his mind not to be.

It's love—the big kind. He’s just not certain when he should let you in on that fact. Release it out to you and see if it comes back returned.

In the past five months he’s undertaken a million little projects to keep his hands, mouth, and mind busy, working out all that excess energy. All he’s doing is kicking the can down the road, trying to find “the right time”. 

He's gotten close more than once, yet every time it catches in the back of his throat, his tongue an uneasy ally in the venture. The words, three simple ones, are left as something uncomfortable to swallow down at each abandoned attempt.

And yet, virtually all that discomfort is eased by the way you say his name, catching his attention when they nearly slip, nearly an endearment all on its own. 

His call sign being his name means that Bob hears it alot, from a considerable amount of mouths. Shouted, whispered, whooped. In a variance of forms, he's heard it. But it's never sounded so important, so weighty, then it does as it falls from your lips. Like you're speaking a dialect only the two of you hold knowledge of, his name equivalent to the word in the forefront of his mind.

"Bob."

He hums, certain that his face gives him away; 'Whipped' as Mickey called it or 'in love' as his mother did the first time you met.

This is the sort of thing that his parents have, the ease, the humor, the affection. It permeates every space of his life, the knowledge that you're here, with him, choosing each other easily.

Eight letters.

I love you.

He lets temptation run wild, hands glancing down your back and tugging you right into him. He takes a moment just to look at you, your bright eyes, and the sweet shape of your lips as you smile up at him. Your hands slide around his neck, gently teasing the hair at the nape of his neck, his stomach swooping at the feeling.

Three syllables.

I love you.

He lets them swirl in his head, settle in the back of his throat as he prepares his tongue.

Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and he opens his mouth, readying himself, just as your lips part, and twice at once, I love you, becomes tangible reality.

Like a held breath released, a smile, broad and uncontrollable, spreads over his face, mirrored on yours as everything comes into view.

Just as Bob leans in to brush his lips against yours, higher than he’s ever felt, the smell of rapidly burning batter hits his nose. 

"Oh, shoot."

a/n: thank you for reading!

[no-144444]

get through it- o.piastri

summary: oscar's there for you after you loose your mom.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

warning: there is a lot of talk about loosing a parent (specifically a mother) so if you're not up for that right now, please protect yourself :)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was there when you got the call. He watched as your eyes widened and your heart sank. He caught you before you fell down on your knees. He was the one holding you when the hospital hung up. 

"It’s alright,” he whispered into your hair. He knew it wasn’t alright. He knew everything was falling apart, but he was going to try and hold it together for you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You just cried. For days. He’d never seen anything like it before. He assumed that’s what he would do in your situation. Your mom was gone. She passed peacefully in the middle of the night. You’d never get to see her again. It crushed you. He held you every single night when you cried yourself to sleep, whispering sweet words, showing that he cared. He was there for you every morning when you’d cry as you got ready for the day, helping you get dressed. He saw how it all weighed you down. He noticed every little change in facial expressions, every nudge of your arm, everything. He was there to protect you, to be there for you. He’d give anything to have more time before training camp came around, and he had to go back to Monaco. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“Is everything packed?” you asked, your tone flat, but still caring. You couldn’t come with him. You had a life and a job in New York. He’d spent his entire Christmas with you. And going over to Australia together and meeting his family for the first time was your favourite part of the break. Everything after that was a blur of tears and funerals. 

He nodded. “Leaving in the morning,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “You’re sure you’ll be alright.”

You nodded. “I’ll survive. I’ll have Mae anyways.”

Oscar’s sister, Mae, was going to be staying in your apartment as she attended her last year of school right there in the Big Apple, a fun transfer year. 

“I don’t want you to go back to work too soon,” he said in a hushed tone. “Don’t throw yourself into things just because I’m not here to pull you out of them.”

You mumbled. “Mae is on strict orders to text you if I start coming home late,” you mock saluted. 

He sighed, and looked at you in his arms. The love of his life (even if you didn’t know that yet). “I’ll miss you.”

You shook your head, tears forming. “I’ll miss you too.” 

He pulled you into his chest, feeling your laboured breath. “Let it out,” he whispered. You shook your head, pulling away. 

“I’ve cried enough,” you smiled sadly, wiping your eyes. “I just… I want to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. I… love you.” 

He smiled, bright and big. “I love you too,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist. “And for the record, I’d do it over and over again. Forever. I just want you to be happy.”

You nodded, feeling the tears building again. He meant it. You could tell. You’d wondered how you were going to get through it, the awfulness of the grief almost felt insurmountable, but with Oscar by your side, it was feeling a little better. 

“Come on,” he grumbled against your skin. “Bedtime.” 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[quarterlifekitty]

Okay listen all I’m saying is hiring the boys as a bodyguard. Not because you actually need guarding, but because you have the money and you’re lonely, damn it!

Besides, if you happen to admire them while they do their jobs, no harm, no foul, right? And maybe you cook them extra food. Maybe you put on music they like while you drive. Maybe you treat them with a little more affection than strictly necessary.

It’s okay though! They work hard, they deserve to relax! And maybe relaxing includes staring a little too long when you dress more scandalously than usual. Maybe, just maybe, they relax by stroking themselves to thoughts of you alone in their rooms.

I’m so sorry I just need big meaty men who are so pathetic for the soft little thing that hired them.

Okay you can ignore this part but I just came across your blog and I’m fucking feral for your writing, especially depraved Simon and pathetic König. I’m biting your thighs and kissing your shoulders.

Honestly. This is a few shade darker than what you said. So. Sorry. Also biting my thighs and kissing my shoulders you say?????? 😳

But I can see Ghost in a sort of Mike Ehrmantraut type of role. Discharged from special forces for a sustained injury, but he can still fight and kill with the best. In fact, his blood itches inside of his veins when he doesn’t. So he takes up private security jobs. Not with any company or so called respected association, just on his own, completely freelance.

You hire him for security on something not entirely legal. You hire a couple other guys, but Ghost is pretty sure they’re all bark and no bite. He’s able to disarm and knock them on their backs in record time. “Still think this is gonna be a three-man job, birdie?”

So it’s just him and you. And you’re paranoid, he can tell. Whatever business you’re engaged in right now is something you fell into and are utterly terrified to leave. He sees the men you meet with looking at you with such predatory eyes, like prison guards waiting for you to make a break for it so they have an excuse to take you down. There was clearly someone in this position before him. Maybe they left, or maybe they’re the ones that paid the price for you trying to run out.

It’s clear to Simon that your relationship with whoever used to occupy this seat next to you in the car was more than professional. You don’t cook meals and bake treats for hired muscle. You don’t ask them to tell you what music they like for the car rides. And normally, the hired muscle doesn’t stick around so much. Doesn’t stay in your house unpaid. Doesn’t worry so much about the frayed nerves of his client. Doesn’t insist on standing by the door when you’re changing. Doesn’t spend his night turning over your predicament in his head and trying to untangle it.

If the last guy left, he can see why. You’re a bad investment. You don’t ask for more, but you’re the type that makes a man like him want to give and give until there’s nothing left. Truly, the most dangerous thing in the world is a bird that makes a man feel powerful through no intention of her own.

If the last guy died for you, he can see why.

Sometimes Simon sits on your bed until you fall asleep. It takes a while. You spend so many hours feeling vulnerable, like you’re going to be shoved into a bottomless pit if you don’t keep your eyes wide open and your skin prickled.

He takes his glove off to stroke your cheek. And that’s when he realizes that he’s never been one for untangling messes like these.

He’s the type of man who grabs the scissors.

[soaplickerrr]

Accidentally Coincidental

CHAPTER 11 (click pictures for better quality)

| ⇠ Previous | Next ⇢ |

a/n: updates will be slow, i'm working on a pretty long fic on my side blog.

pairing: Idol!Kim Seungmin x Fem!College Student!Reader

genre: contemporary romance

SMAU

synopsis: Y/N, a regular college student accidentally texts Seungmin, a star in the K-pop group Stray Kids while trying to text her Ex, Soonyoung to come pick up his things, leading to an unexpected connection that blossoms into a heartfelt romance.

ignore time stamps, dates (other than the ones mentioned during texting) and typos

THERES A WRITTEN PART, DO NOT JUST SCROLL THROUGH THE PICS!

The morning light filtered through your curtains, painting your room in soft golden light.

You stretched lazily in bed, the memory of your first date with Seungmin still fresh in your mind.

The quiet moments, the playful teasing, and the way his hand felt warm and steady in yours, it had all left a lingering warmth in your chest.

As you reached for your phone, a message notification greeted you. It was from Seungmin, from 10 minutes ago.

You hesitated, a flicker of nervousness settling in your stomach. This wasn’t like your first date, where you’d blended into the crowd. But the thought of seeing him again was too tempting to resist.

As soon as you reached the JYP building, the common morning bustle was going on. Trainees were speedily going around with a strapped-on gym bag, staff rushed about from conference room to conference room, and the humming sound that filled the air was so familiar to productivity.

You settled into your desk in the editing department and booted up your workstation, diving into the day's assignments. The first thing on your plate was reviewing footage of a recent Stray Kids dance practice. The video flickered to life on your screen, and your eyes inevitably landed on Seungmin.

Even now, in rehearsal mode, he stood out. Intent and exacting, yet light in his movements- quietly confident in a way that made it impossible not to smile as you worked. Surreal, to be watching him like this after the time you'd spent with him off-camera.

"Y/N, can you send me the final cut for the highlight reel?" Jina's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“On it!" you replied, exporting the file in record time. The rest of the morning flew by in a haze of edits and emails, though you did find yourself checking the clock more often than usual. As noon started to draw near, a quiet excitement started to bubble up inside you.

You glanced at your watch; it was exactly noon, lunch. Taking your phone, you headed towards the elevators. Every step seemed to kick your heart into higher gear, and as you rounded the corner, there he was, leaned against the wall, casually dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans.

It sent a wave of warmth through you at the mere sight of him, and before your brain could overthink it, you just walked right up to him and leaned in, pressing a quick peck on his lips.

The effect was instant. Seungmin froze, staring at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in surprise.

"You okay there?" you tease, taking a step back.

He blinked once; his composure faltered for a beat before a slow, boyish grin spread through his face. "Well. I certainly wasn't expecting that."

You shrugged, attempting to play it cool despite your racing heart. "Consider it a thank you for planning lunch."

"I may have to plan more lunches, then," he said lowly.

"Come on," you said, your eyes rolling even as a smile crept onto your face. "Let's eat before I change my mind."

Seungmin guided you down a deserted hallway and opened the door to one of the smaller dance practice rooms. A little table inside was set with takeout containers and drinks, even a few desserts. The room was dimly lit; the mirrors running floor to ceiling reflected the cozy scene.

"Impressed?" he asked, the grin laced with a hint of pride.

You laughed, sitting down on the floor across from him. "I'll admit, I didn't expect this. But it's… nice."

He handed you a drink and unwrapped his food. "Figured it'd be better than the cafeteria. Less crowded."

The conversation had started light as you dug into your meals, talking work, favorite foods, and random quirks of daily routines. As the minutes passed, the conversation turned deeper, more personal.

"What's been the best part of editing so far?" Seungmin asked, leaning forward slightly.

You picked at your food for a moment, thinking. "I think it's getting to see all the little details- the moments people don't always catch. Like in that dance practice footage, there was this part where you smiled at Hyunjin after a misstep. It was so fast, but it made the whole clip feel more real."

Seungmin tilted his head, a soft smile tugging on his lips. "You're really good at noticing things, aren't you?"

You shrugged, feeling a little shy under his gaze. "It's part of the job, I guess."

"It's more than that," he said, his tone thoughtful. "You care about what you're doing. It shows."

His words had brought color to your cheeks, and you changed the subject in a hurry, asking him to talk about his best memories of performances. He launched into a story about a chaotic onstage moment, replete with exaggerated impressions of his groupmates, and you laughed so hard you almost spilled your drink.

As the lunch hour drew to a close, you both sat back, sipping your drinks, and let the quiet fall around you.

"Thanks for this," you said softly. "I didn't realize just how much I needed it."

"Anytime," Seungmin replied, the warmth of his voice palpable. "We can make it a habit. Lunch breaks should be fun."

He rose and extended a hand to you, hoisting you to your feet with little difficulty. As you straightened your jacket, he looked at the time. "I should probably walk you back. Wouldn't want anyone accusing me of kidnapping our star editor."

The walk back to the editing department was silent, but comfortable, Seungmin walking near enough that your arms touched from time to time. There was just something so trustworthy in his presence- something grounding- and you'd smiled without even realizing it.

Just as you rounded a corner near your department, Seungmin suddenly slowed his pace. In that instant, his expression changed, melting into one confusion and suspicion.

"What?" you asked, scanning where he was looking.

"Han," he muttered under his breath.

Sure enough, a little farther down the hall, Han was leaning casually against the wall, phone in hand. He didn't even try to hide it as he snapped a quick photo of the two of you walking together.

"Don't mind me," Han said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. "Just documenting history."

Seungmin sighed, rubbing his temples. "Han, don't-"

"Too late," Han interrupted, already walking away. "Check the group chat."

Seungmin groaned loudly, muttering something under his breath before turning back to you with a soft apologetic smile. "Sorry about him. He's…enthusiastic."

You laughed shaking your head. "It's fine. I'll leave that chaos in your hands."

With a final smile, Seungmin watched you go back into the editing department, a quiet warmth settling over him.

The phone wouldn't stop buzzing later that afternoon. Seungmin opened the group chat to find Han's photo, and the usual chaos.

Shaking his head, Seungmin pocketed his phone, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the teasing.

It felt like this chapter was very short and rushed :3

TAGLIST - CLOSED - if your name is in pink, I couldn't tag you

🏷️: @disasterousdangerousbi @akitfffr @alexateurmom @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sunarins-whore @feelikecinderella @minniesuperversee @istglevi-gotmesimping @dreamerwasfound @whiteghostt @your-favorite-pirate @pnutbutter-n-j-elyy @chuuyaobsessed @ihrtlix @onlyhyunjin @jisuperboard @dazzlingjade @sellomaybe @lixiesbrownies333 @kkamismom12 @iatemycatfreckles @puppyminnnie @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ayyonoona @missvanjii @jc003 @dontwannaexsist @everglowdaisies

[chheolie]

hey! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if you’d be open to writing a comfort fic where y/n is feeling a little sad and lonely (feeling left out from their friend group) and scoups comforts y/n?

Ohhh hello, I'm glad you enjoyed reading this blog. And well, I hope you like this post too! ♥♥♥

seungcheol unlocked the door to his home, his shoulders heavy with the weight of weeks of intense work, and let out a sigh of relief as he entered. the past weeks had been a whirlwind of recordings, rehearsals, and meetings. his eyes searched for you, whom he hadn't seen as much as he would have liked lately. soon, you rushed to meet him, hugging him tightly. he smiled, feeling your warmth, wrapping his arms around you, and kissing the top of your head.

"i'm home," he murmured, holding you tenderly.

you didn't let go, remaining glued to him. seungcheol noticed the difference; normally, even after time apart, you maintained a certain distance. today, however, you seemed unwilling to let go.

"what's wrong, love? is everything okay?" he asked with concern, caressing your face.

"nothing, i just missed you," you replied quickly, trying to force a smile.

he frowned, unconvinced, but decided not to press the issue at that moment. "i missed you too, y/n." you both headed to the living room and settled on the couch. you lay down in seungcheol's lap, feeling his fingers gently run through your hair, a gesture that always calmed you.

you picked up your phone and started scrolling through your instagram feed. suddenly, your body tensed. seungcheol noticed the immediate change and looked at your face, analyzing your expression. on the post where you had frozen, your friends were all together at a dinner, without you.

"y/n, what is it?" he asked, worried.

you sighed, your eyes still fixed on the phone. "my friends went out to dinner," you finally said, your voice tinged with hurt. "and i didn't even know about it. i wasn't invited. again."

seungcheol felt his heart ache seeing the sadness in your eyes.

"that's not fair, y/n. are you sure they didn't mention anything in the group chat?"

you shook your head, tears beginning to form.

"no. and this isn't the first time it's happened. i just... i feel like i'm losing my friendships. i feel so alone."

seungcheol pulled you closer, enveloping you in a tight embrace. he could feel your pain. "i'm sorry, my love. i know how much this must hurt."

you finally looked at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "i just... feel so excluded, you know? like i'm not important to them."

"you are so important, y/n. to me, you are everything. and anyone who doesn't see that doesn't deserve your time or energy."

you nodded, the tears now falling freely. seungcheol gently wiped your face with his thumb, leaning in to kiss your lips softly.

"let's take some time just for us, do something you enjoy. maybe watch a movie, order food... what do you think?"

you gave a small smile, feeling the comfort and security that only seungcheol could provide.

"i'd love that, cheol. thank you for being here."

he kissed your forehead, holding you even tighter in his arms.

"always, my love. i'll always be here for you."

you both decided to order food from a restaurant you both liked, choosing dishes that brought back fond memories of other moments together. while waiting for the delivery, seungcheol put on a movie he knew you adored. he adjusted the cushions on the couch, making sure you were comfortable before sitting next to you again.

as the movie progressed, you felt the day's tension begin to melt away. seungcheol kept an arm around your shoulders, occasionally kissing your temple or whispering funny comments about the movie scenes, making you laugh. it was a welcome distraction and a reminder of how well he knew and understood you.

when the food arrived, seungcheol insisted on serving you, telling you to relax while he prepared everything. he returned with plates full of your favorite dishes, and you ate together, talking about light and fun things, putting aside worries for a moment.

after dinner, you stayed cuddled on the couch, talking about everything and nothing. seungcheol listened patiently as you spoke more about how you were feeling regarding your friends. he didn't try to offer quick solutions, but instead, listened attentively, validating your feelings and offering words of support.

"maybe it's time to find new people, make new friendships that truly value you," he suggested gently. "but remember, i'm always here for you, no matter what."

you felt a wave of gratitude and love for him. seungcheol always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. you snuggled closer, feeling the warmth and security of his arms around you.

"i don't know what i'd do without you, my love," you whispered.

"and you'll never have to find out because i'm never going anywhere," he responded, with firmness and affection in his voice.

[kanmom51]

Like Crazy - new insights

*This is a reposting of my latest reblog due to issues with that specific post.

***This has been sitting in my drafts since April 2023!!!

This is the post I reblogged and the basis to my own post.

Yep. I had some of a post written way back in April 2023, but the pieces just didn't come all together for me.

After Muse's release and specifically after the BTB yesterday where JM discussed Who, Muse and the lyrics, we also saw the change made to Who's lyrics from "you" to "she" things started to clear up for me. But then, a friend also shared a picture of the original lyrics of Like Crazy, which were subsequently altered before recording. We discussed these changes and I now feel that this is it! This is the missing piece to my post.

I mostly left what I wrote over a year ago in tact, adding the missing pieces to this puzzle that makes this post with what I feel is a little more insight into Like crazy.

Needless to say, these are my opinions, how I see the lyrics, the ones that made the cut and the ones that stayed in JM's lyrics journal.

So, let's get started:

Here I was thinking I'm the only one who was seeing this...

I do hope I'm reading this right, before going off motormouth about something that maybe isn't what is being said, but to hell with it, this is something I've been thinking too and I'm just gonna come out and say it.

We're all over 18 here right?

This is a subject we can talk about?

The more I listen to this song, the more I think it to be true too.

First of all, before starting off, I want to link this ask:

**Shock and awe... "she" wasn't part of the original lyrics for Like Crazy . Colour me surprised to learn the same is true with Who (even though JM didn't actually write the song himself). Oh, and if we are on that subject already, how not surprising to see the process of writing the song with John Billion, who happens to be one of the writers of SNTY as well (me sitting here thinking of several words and references that could have been somehow suggested and inserted into the song. No idea who (nah, I'm telling lies, I know exactly who). How shocking (NOT) to see that the artist actually had input with the song lyrics of which he is not credited in writing.

Again, the depth of the song, the layers to the song and the multiple interpretations too.

JM told us this song is about him struggling. He told us he was going through a period where he was drinking too much. He was finding fulfillment in ways other than performing, as performing is part of him, he is a performer, someone who needs the stage to express himself. The stage is where he is at peace, the stage being a piece of him that he was missing.

We saw his outburst of emotions in the first day of MOTS ON:E (that was my first experience of BTS and he literally broke my heart - and later seeing him being mocked for it infuriated me).

This was October 2020, around 6 months into the pandemic. The uncertainty. This is their first online performance and from there until Muster another 9 months go by. We know from Festa 2022 that the pandemic screwed up all of their plans. The uncertainty, working on and releasing BE and then Butter and PTD everything leading up to the PTD online concert, a year after MOTS ON:E. For those that performing is their life, standing in front of an audience and giving it their all, it's a hard pill to swallow. The unknown, if they will ever get back to perform on stage in front of a live audience, when this is who they are, their essence, it can be unbearable. JM wasn't the only performer to go through this. It's just that he shared this with us. He showed us his pain and vulnerability and was mocked for it by many. Shame on them!!!

So, again, JM told us with Like Crazy, that he was filling in that hole. Alcohol was mentioned by him specifically. But listening to the song, I think it's quite clear that sex was a very big part of it as well. Looking for that rush, that high. It's clear as day, for me anyway, in the lyrics.

(I think we could last forever I'm afraid that everything will disappear Just trust me)

[Verse 1] She's saying Baby, don't think about it There's not a bad thing here tonight Baby, you can leave it Stay with me until today

[Verse 2] Watch me go Wet me all night (Away) And morning too Don't come if you're drunk

In this loud music It fades me It's a drama-like story I'm get used to it Have you come far to find me that you used to know? Yeah, I know You know, I know (Ooh)

[Chorus] I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Interlude] Mmm-hmm Yeah, hey Mmm-hmm Ooh-woah Mmm-hmm Mmm-hmm (Forever, you and I)

[Verse 3] Me reflects in the mirror I'm going crazy without hesitation I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Outro] This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Those are the lyrics he recorded.

But you see, there were changes made to the lyrics he was working on originally, and we got to see some of them.

This specifically:

Reading this draft and the final ones there are a few things that just fall into place for me (and I'd think for anyone that reads them), loud and clear:

First of all, obviously JM is singing about drinking too much alcohol. If the final lyrics hinted to losing himself in alcohol, the draft lyrics are ever so clear regarding that point.

Second of all, the sex. I think JM was pretty straight forward using the wording he was using. "Give me a good ride" can be other things, if you twist it around to try and explain it away, but bottom line, those lines within the context of the lines in the draft, like "just go turn off the light, you and me..." not to mention the whole chorus, to me the reference is obvious.

Next, I talked about the many references to JK in this song in this post:

This is all also relevant when it comes to my next point being the fact that to me it's clear that JM wrote this song referencing a special someone with whom he shares a high level of intimacy. A special someone that was there by his side when JM was struggling. A special someone that was struggling seeing JM going through everything he was.

To that person JM wrote (in the draft): "oh baby don't you cry, just wanna see your smile..."

These lines, they were too much. Too obvious. Too intimate. And they were left out probably because of just that.

So JM went with other lines. A little less obvious perhaps, and yet still very telling. The finale of the song:

No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Now, you could claim that the song is about an inner struggle. JM struggling with himself, talking to himself, and yes, that could very much be part of the message JM, the king of layering, is going for. But see, that's exactly the point. JM is the king of layering, of having several meanings and messages within his lyrics and creations. And this is not different. There is no mistaking the reference to another person, not JM himself, in the lyrics. The way he uses the "you" in the lyrics, at times could pass as you being the alcohol, at times the you being himself in the mirror, but at times it's clearly a third party he is talking to. Especially in that finale to the song, that someone that wants to lift him out of that stupor he is in, to wake him up, to save him, when he is unwilling, not ready to accept that help just yet (same person he asks not to cry, knowing that he is making them sad). There are also the clear JK references in this song. The "you are me I am you" being the loudest of them all.

But JM being JM, he showed us in his own way what this song was about, opening up and allowing us to see his drafts.

And then he gave us Letter. Hidden, and private and intimate. Addressed not to us, but to that person that was always there by his side, that person he addresses in Like Crazy telling him "forever you and I". Now, in Letter, being in a better, healthier place, he can repeat the sentiment of them together forever. A sentiment JK had mentioned in the past (omg, that was so very awkward).

And now using lines like : "I sincerely hope we are forever" and "But don’t forget that we’re always together"...

The lyrics, the sentiments, the drafted lyrics that never made it, like the use of "Dangshin", I have talked about it all. Letter was for JK. Period.

When seeing Like Crazy again, the lyrics, the struggle, the person by his side, the intimacy, and Letter, I'm kind of thinking that not only is Letter a love ode to JK. That is stating the obvious. But it's also JM's acknowledgement and thank you to that person that stood by his side in his most difficult of times.

JK.

Bottom line:

Like crazy is about JM struggling and self medicating with alcohol and sex.

It's personal about himself, his struggles, but also includes a person that is there by his side, one he is highly intimate with, one who is there with him together. That person is there, spending the nights with him, in that escape world JM created for himself. Sad seeing JM struggle, trying to find a way to help JM out of that pit but being unable to do so, staying by JM's side all the same.

We know who that person is.

Same person he addresses Letter to.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Birthday Song

Crosshair sings you a song for your birthday.

Crosshair x reader | 580 words

Note: Year 3 of my tradition writing super self-indulgent Crosshair scenes for my birthday 🙃 I will never tire of finding ways to make grumpy toothpick man soft and tender.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders as you gazed out at the city from your balcony. It was chilly but not unbearable. It was your birthday and you felt at peace.

You'd told anyone who'd asked that you didn't want it to be a big deal this year. It wasn't a milestone age, there was a lot to worry about going on in the galaxy, it just didn't feel like the time for big celebrations. A nice, simple day was all you could really ask for.

Your man, Crosshair, was never one to make a fuss about such things anyway, so he'd hardly complained at the order to not bother with any special plans. Instead, the two of you had gone about the day as normal, attending to your own errands, comfortably working around each other without too much direct interaction.

Now you were taking a break outside, enjoying fresh air in last few hours of winter sunlight, silently reflecting on your year and the goals you had for yourself heading into the next one. You were content with where you were, proud of the things you'd accomplished, even if they weren't as impressive or flashy as others of your age. And you already had a few things to look forward to, new challenges to work through that would surely make you just as happy come your next birthday.

The small smile resting on your face started to grow wider as you felt a presence behind you. That was another thing to feel especially grateful for, you noted, as warmth pressed into your back and thin arms snaked around to pull you closer. You leaned into Crosshair's embrace, resting your head back onto his shoulder. His mouth pressed into your hair with a low hum.

Then the hum grew into a tune. You closed your eyes as soft words floated in the air around you.

Like a river flows... Surely to the sea... Darling, so it goes...

Your body subtly shifted to the side, and then to the other, as Crosshair began rocking you back and forth. Swaying in time to the music you both heard in your heads.

Some things are meant to be...

You loved his voice. Some called it snake-like; menacing, even. And you could agree it was not a tone you'd want to hear at the other end of a blaster. But right now, there were no blasters. There was no war. No reason for him to be so cutting and severe. Now, his voice was soft. Gentle. Conveying few but meaningful words. And when he sang, you felt even more of his heart being shared.

Take my hand... Take my whole life too...

You breathed in deeply, and then your voice joined his.

"For I can't help... falling in love... with you...."

A light kiss was pressed to your temple as your harmony concluded.

"Happy Birthday, love," he whispered.

You tilted your head to try and get a look at him. He smiled down at you, looking just as serene as you felt.

"I love when you sing," you said.

Predictably, he huffed a little. "Only for you."

And it was true. No one knew the talent he had but you. He could sell records, perform at ritzy lounges... as you often teased. But not today. Today, you could keep his voice just for yourself.

You hummed and stood on your tip-toes to give him a kiss. "And what a lovely birthday song it is."

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[harryspurpleloofah]

Hii,

I just had this idea where like y/n and harry are alrrady together. Y/n sings really well, write her own songs and even record them, but is too shy to show anyone so she just keeps them to herself. However Harry came across one of her recorded songs and just FELL IN LOVE with them.

Thank you!!🥰

Hi love! I started this writing blog recently and you’re officially my first request, this means so much thanks! I’ll do my best.

You could give me a run for my money

TW: swearing, smut at the end, Oral fem receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex but they’re trying for a bub (use protection in real life please loves), tit sucking

The sun was setting behind the gorgeous skyscrapers of London. She hummed as she cut the vegetables for the lasagne Harry requested that night. He was working overtime at the studio tonight and she wanted to make sure she made a nice cozy meal for him.

She hummed to the tune of her latest song. She did this all the time when she was home alone when she got bored all by herself (and their cat Bowie, yes named after the rockstar. Harry’s idea but she didn’t object since she loved him too)

She was writing a little piece which was inspired all around her life and she had a basic tune for it but she kept getting stuck on the pre chorus. She hummed it again and again with the ending changing everytime she tried it.

Harry got in that same time. He closed the door quietly behind him. He heard her from the kitchen and tried to figure out what she was singing. He loved hearing her sing but she never did. For him sometimes, when she was drunk she would, but apart from that no way in hell. Especially in front of other people.

Then he realized was this another one of her own ones? He didn’t really know much since she never really told him either. He tried to listen in and it was beautiful. He snuck in slowly, and picked her up from behind to which she immediately erupted in laughs.

“Hi! You’re back.”

He smiled as he twirled her around and then put her down before pecking her cheek, “yes I am. How’re you baby?”

“I’m fine. Making lasagne.”

“Mm. Nice.”, he picks up a sliced tomato for the salad side and eats it. She smacks his hand, “stop that’s for the salad.”

“M’hungry.” He pouts.

“It’ll be done in just a bit. Go get something from the pantry till then.”

“Ok baby honey.”

He made his way to the pantry to start looking for food while humming..HER SONG??

“Where did you hear that?” She quickly asks

“Hm? You were humming it no?”

“I-..was I?”

“Yeah just as I came in. Banger tune babe. Who’s it by?” He closes the pantry and grabs a banana from their fruit basket instead.

“No one.”

“No one?”

“Nobody you’d know.”

“Hey I know everyone.”

“They’re really underground besides I forgot their name.”

“Look it up. Hey google, what song is this?” He opens his phone and hums the song. Obviously since the song isn’t out google has no clue. “That’s so weird honey. Even google doesn’t know.”

“Funny. Ok go have a shower I’ll put this in the oven.”

“I wanna know the song. It’s nice I wanna hear the rest of it.”

“Just leave it Harry.”

“But I-”

“Harry!”

“Whatt”

“Just move on”

He sighed, “ok but I just don’t get it why are you so pissed over a song?”

“Because it’s mine..”

“What?”

“I just like..make up little songs sometimes it was one of those”

“Wait wait wait! You’ve been making music this entire time?”

“Not this entire time..it was just recently. When you’d be at your studio. Basically remember you used to send me demos?”

“Mhm?”, he asks, chewing on the bite of banana.

“So I just used to get them stuck in my head then they’d only be half finished and I’d start making up my own endings for them. Then I couldn’t remember them so I wrote them down and I just started writing from there, but it’s nothing serious.”

“Have you ever recorded anything? Properly?”

She chuckles slightly, putting the knife down and turning around fully, “no. Not like you I just have some like…audio recordings nothing much.”

“Can I listen to one? Please?”

“No.”

“Please?? I really really want to.”

“Harry..”

“It can be my anniversary present.”

“A month early?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed. She handed him her phone to look through the recordings. His jaw dropped. They were fucking amazing. She took her phone, “ok enough.”

“Baby! You cannot be serious! This is so good!”

She smiles, genuinely feeling her heart warm. “Really?”

“Yes I love them.”

She wasn’t one of those people who knew her talents and still undermined them. If something she did was good she’d give herself the due credit. And she actually thought her songs were nice. But she didn’t want them out into the world. She just wasn’t ready for that sort of exposure yet.

“Baby?”

“Yes Harry?”

“Do you have like an instrumental back for this?”

“Yeah. It’s in the files on my computer why?”

“Cool…”

The next morning when she came downstairs he was on her computer.

“Haz?” She asked. “What are you doing?”

“Forget everything. Watch this.” He presses play. She’s shocked.

It’s her voice, her song, her music. He’d edited it all together and added a tiny bit of reverb and auto tune where needed. When the song finished he turned back to her, “isn’t it great?”

“I love it Harry..”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So should I talk to Jeff? Get you out there?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“What?”

She frowned, “I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t..I wanna write for myself. Not anyone else.”

“Are you sure? We could really get you big. You could do this full time if you really enjoy it-”

“I don’t though Harry. I like my job this is just a hobby. I love it but not enough to do it full time. Not enough like you do.”

“Are you really sure my darling?”

“Yes. I don’t want it leaving this computer.”

Harry sighed, but then flashed her a grin, “you know what fine. Honestly m’happy.”

She smiled. “Why?”

“You could’ve been better than me baby. Thank god. You would’ve given me a run for my money.”

She laughed loudly, “really?”

“Honest. Now may I get some breakfast please?”

“Of course.”

“Or I could eat something else instead..”

“What?” She giggled

He looked her up and down ravishingly. “You perchance.”

“Huh. Let’s see..should I let you?”

“Yes. Please baby..”

She smiles.. “maybe.”

“That’s a yes,” he grabs her in a kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth. He trailed kisses over her neck, reaching her tits. He took her shirt off and captured her lips once again before undoing the bra buckle and latching his mouth on a hardened peak.

He let out a moan muffled into her skin as she moaned and pushed herself into his mouth even more. His kisses trailed down her stomach then down to her thighs, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pulling them down with her trousers, lapping at the arousal already running down her thighs.

“God look at you. So ready for me.” He licked a strip upwards, provoking a moan from her again. He ravaged her completely, focusing on her clit, sucking on it gently, flicking it with his tongue, not stopping despite her fingers tangling in his hair, her legs trying to squeeze shut in pleasure.

“Fuck Harry..please..I need to cum.”

“You will baby. Very soon. Just hang on two seconds for me I want you to cum on my cock yeah?”

“Yes-yeah please.”

He nudged her clit with the head of his hardened cock before pushing in with a grunt moan mix. “Yes fuck you’re so tight baby.”. He thrusted deeper, harder. He kept going until her moans were getting louder, her breath quicker and her pussy was clenching on his cock. “Ok love. Cum for me now.” He allowed her. She didn’t hesitate, costing his dick in her sweet juices.

It took mere seconds before he came with a groan, shooting hot loads into her womb. They’d been talking about hanging a baby. This wasn’t one of their planned tries but every thing counts? He gently pulled out of her and kissed her forehead.

“You were so good for me angel. Did you like it?”

“Yes Harry-god I loved it.”

“Good. You wait till tonight then.”.

[feedthefandomfest]

Comment Bingo (Original Edition)

Very simple rules: connect 5 squares in a line by completing the task in each square

Very simple goals: encourage readers to comment on fics; encourage fandom writers to KEEP WRITING

(reposted so a cleaned up version links back here rather than my main blog)

STEPS:

Download Bingo Card HERE (png) or HERE (jpg) or HERE (pdf)

Complete the tasks on the card, marking off each as you go, until you've completed 5 in a line (vertical, horizontal, or diagonal; NO double-dipping; kudos ♥️ is a free space)

POST your winning card (or list your filled squares) and tag @feedthefandomfest! Glory in your victory.

REWARD:

✨ victory badges ✨

Tag me when you earn a bingo (or double, triple, quadruple... FULL CARD bingo) and I'll reblog a shiny badge with your name on it to commemorate the win.

FAQ:

Can I comment on tumblr or only on AO3?

Either one is great! The tags are drawn from AO3, but most can be adjusted to suit tumblr as well, so I say go for it. Tumblr fics deserve love, too.

Can one comment count toward multiple squares if the fic fits more than one category?

Since the goal is for as many fics to receive comments as possible, try to comment on a different fic for each square.

Is there a time limit?

Nope! Take your time or set your own deadline, whatever works for you. This blog is still in its early experimental stage, so feedback welcome. Play around and let me know what you like and what might be added/changed—including ideas for squares on future cards!

Do I have to record progress on the actual card?

Nope! If it’s easier to keep track in a different way, that’s fine. This is all very honor system, so if you say you earned a Bingo, we’ll call it a win 🎉

Some people have been tracking not just completed tasks, but the fics they read along the way, so that when they post a bingo, they can also promote the fics/authors in a little rec list. Not required, but definitely cool to see!

Can I adjust the task in a particular square to suit my comfort level?

Of course! If you deliver something in the spirit of the task, then it’s all good. Use your best judgement in constructing a comment that will make the author smile, and you can consider it a job well done.

In general, so long as each square has produced at least one comment, you’re golden and I salute you 🫡

Happy commenting!!

[canmom]

Hello! I absolutely love your blog, everything from your festival recounts to animation analysis and programming (one of tumblr's recommended posts was the one where you made your own rasteriser, and I liked your attitude in what I've read so much that I'm gonna attempt to conquer my 3-year-long grudge against using opengl during college and do something similar now that I'm a bit older and have no deadlines :D).

But anyway, I have 2 questions (sorry if there's easily accessible answers, tumblr search is not helping): 1. During your animation nights, does the screen stay black while everyone watches their own video while you provide commentary? I haven't caught any yet but maybe someday! And 2. do you have any youtube channels or just one-off video essays that you like that also cover animation/directors? Or, even programming lol.

Sorry for the long ask have a nice day!

hiii! i'm very touched that you like my dorky eclectic blog <3

For the Animation Nights, I just stream the video over Twitch from local sources on my computer, typically by playing the video in mpv and recording it in OBS. This is obviously not ideal from a video quality perspective, but it's the easiest way to watch video in sync without making everyone download files in advance. Then we all chat in the Twitch chat box (in large part to crack stupid jokes, it's not that highbrow lmao). I've gotten away with it so far!

As for youtube channels, I can recommend...

anime production/history (i.e. sakuga fandom)

SteveM is likely the most sakuga-fan affiliated anituber. He makes long, well-researched and in-depth videos on anime history, usually themed around a particular director or studio.

Pyramid Inu might be my fave anituber - very thoughtful analysis of Gundam, obscure mecha anime and oldschool BL and similar topics. tremendously soothing voice too.

The Canipa Effect does excellent deep dives into the production of specific shows, both western and anime. I appreciate the respect he gives to the Korean animators of shows like AtlA in particular!

Sean Bires's 2013 presentation on sakuga is pretty foundational to this whole subcultural niche, and a great place to get an introduction to the major animator names to know and significant points in the history of anime. unfortunately a couple of the segments got slapped down by copyright but the rest holds up!

animation theory (for animators and aspirants)

I'm going to focus here on resources that are relevant to animation in general, and 2D animation. if I was going to list every Blender channel we'd be here all week :p

New Frame Plus is one of the best channels out there for game animation, describing in tightly edited videos how animation principles work in a game context and analysing the animation of various games. highly recommend

Videogame Animation Study is similar, examining the animation of specific games in detail

the 'twelve principles of animation' (defined by Disney's Ollie Johnston and Frank Thomas) remain the standard approach to animation pedagogy; there are various videos on them, but Alan Becker (of Animator vs Animation) has quite a popular series. I haven't actually watched these but many people swear by them! Dermot O'Connor expands the list to 21. Note that some of the terminology can be a little inconsistent between different animators - c.f. 'secondary motion'...

Dong Chang is an animator at Studio NUT, who produces a lot of fantastic, succinct videos on standard techniques in the anime industry, timesheet notations, etc. etc. Studio Bulldog, a small anime studio, are a good complement; they focus more on douga than genga and are generally a bit more traditional.

programming

big topic here, I'm going to focus on game dev and tech art since that's my field. but also some general compsci stuff that's neat

SimonDev - graphics programmer with a bunch of AAA experience, fantastic explanations of advanced optimisations and some of the more counterintuitive aspects of rendering

Acerola - graphics programmer who makes very detailed guides to a variety of effects with a very rapid and funny 'guy that has seen monogatari' editing style. When he's good, he's really good. His video on water is probably the best one I've seen (though I can recommend a couple of others).

TodePond - the most charming, musical videos about recursion and cellular automata you've ever seen. less programming tutorial and more art in themselves.

Ben Eater - known for his breadboard computer series, a fantastic demonstration of how to go from logic gates up to the 6502 with actual hardware. worth watching just for how clean he puts the wires on his breadboards like goddamn man

Sebastian Lague, Useless Game Dev - both do 'coding adventure' style videos where they spend a few weeks on some project and then document it on Youtube, resulting in a huge library of videos about all sorts of fascinating techniques. great to dive into

Freya Holmér - creator of the 'shapes' library, makes videos on mathematical programming, with gorgeously animated vector graphics. Her video on splines is a particular treat.

There are definitely many more channels I can recommend on these subjects, but I'll need to dig into my history a bit - unfortunately I need to rush out right now, but hopefully that should be good to be getting going with!

[scorpioriesling]

Dangerous Woman (pt 2)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warnings: ehh… none

Summary: Now that Eris is finally ready to confront his feelings, will reader do the same?

SR’s Note: My apologies for the wait! I have so many WIPs, requests, multi-part series, etc. right now. I appreciate your patience & continued support <3 Tags: @lilah-asteria @infintyfandoms @peachcontour-blog

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The soda water is a relief to your pounding headache as the morning progresses, a constant reminder of the night before and just how much alcohol you’d consumed. If not for the headache, the state you were in would surely give it away; smeared makeup, ratty ponytail, the works. Thankfully, you’d rested in your own bed last night, Eris being the gentleman he is escorted you home after your… well…

That in itself was a reminder.

You couldn’t help but smile just a little bit, even though you knew today you’d have to face up to what had happened. It wasn’t the part about wondering if Eris would return his feelings — he’d all but laid them out on a silver tray for you last night. However, would said feelings change when he found out how you’d manipulated him into thinking you were someone else for a sexual experience? Well, yes. That part was rather terrifying.

Usually you’d feel heavier than a ton of bricks trying to drag yourself from bed, but this morning it’s the hope in your heart lulling you to the shower and quickly to your vanity to allot extra time for your primping before work. You knew you’d see him today, you had to be sure you were ready and obviously looked your best. Not that you’d been out drinking and, well, having sex with him the night prior.

Your burgundy milkmaid dress was simplistic but flattering, dipping low enough but not too low to anger the High Lord. Tying a ribbon to match in your curled ponytail and touching up your lip gloss once more, you set off for the Autumn Palace.

ﾟ:* ✧

“These need to be filed immediately.” Beron’s voice was flat as he plopped another hefty stack of papers onto your desk in the East Wing of the Palace. He only so much as glanced at you, making to move from your office without so much as further instruction. You nod quickly, the Lady of Autumn catching your eye from the doorway as she followed him out.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. You nodded your head politely at her, earning you a kind smile in return, one that reminded you so much of her oldest son. Speaking of…

The clock on the wall read half past three, and you hadn’t seen him all day. Usually you’d at least see him during your lunch hour as you’d stroll through the gardens, sitting under an oak tree for a quick chat or catch him passing your office a few times a day. Come to think of it, he didn’t have much need to be in the East Wing, but you’d at least find him passing by your office once if not twice a day.

Sighing, you move quick work of the record keeping, signing and dating the records and filing them into the correct folder drawers lining the walls. You tried to focus on your work, you only had thirty minutes before you were to leave, but you hoped to finish early and maybe find Eris somewhere. He had to be around, where else would he go?

Your mind wandered to last night, the way his hands felt on you, his lips, how beautiful he looked bathed in the moonlight…

You stop yourself, halting from filing a record in an incorrect folder. You shake your head, ponytail swinging side to side. Let’s just get through this, you think, turning back to your work.

ﾟ:* ✧

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when you shove the last file away, and you practically race from the office, locking it hastily and bounding down the long marble hallway toward the central courtyard. Your eyes dance from left to right, no one in sight inside or beyond the windows. All that is heard are the pattering of your maroon flats as you continue your hasty path toward the West Wing — the family chambers. If he wasn’t in the East Wing, the gardens, the offices, even the central courtyard, he must be in the West Wing.

You skid to a halt when you hear a conversation becoming louder and louder, the High Lord of Autumn’s familiar angry tone increasing in volume as you continue down the hallway. The last thing you need is to be caught, especially near the family’s quarters after hours. You make a split second decision, veering right down an unfamiliar hallway and pushing through the large wooden door at the end of it.

Your eyes squint at the afternoon sun blinding your vision, and taking a deep breath, your nose furrows at the pasture smell you’ve come upon. Taking in your surroundings, you realize you’ve left the palace, running right outside to the horse stables in the back. You glance around, noticing the large barn in front of you and not a soul in sight. Taking a few exasperated steps inside, into the shaded barn, you let out a loud sigh and sag your shoulders.

“What the FUCK!” You shout, a soft neigh coming from a stall in the distance. You bury your face in your palms, the weight of the day finally sinking in and your longing feeling all too heavy. You didn’t want to wait, you’d waited too long for this, been a coward too many times over to keep waiting. Now it was simply because you couldn’t find the male-

“Y/N?” A soft voice from behind you questions. You immediately straighten, your arms falling to your sides at the recognition. You turn slowly, heavy footsteps drawing nearer by the second.

“Y/N, are you,” Eris’s fingers lightly grace your exposed shoulder and you literally jump at the contact, causing him to retract immediately. His eyes search yours, his face the portrait of concern at your unusual attitude towards him.

“My Gods, Y/N — are you alright?” He asks softly. You face him, your mouth only opens to speak and you close it, unsure what to say.

“I… um…” You try. He reaches for you again, but thinks better of it, curling his fingers into a fist and dropping his hand.

“My dearest friend have I,” he swallows, unfurling his fingers to twist the silver ring on his index finger nervously. “Have I done something wrong?” He asks. Your eyes widen, and you take his hands in yours. His gaze flicks toward the contact, but your focused on his face.

“No! Oh Gods no Eris, never,” you assure. His whisky irises meet yours again, brow furrowed in uncertainty as his thumbs delicately trace across the backs of your palms.

“Well then, what has you so upset?” He asks. His tone, the honestly in it just breaks your heart in two. You knew this would be hard, but standing before him, before your Eris, the male you’d loved so long… admitting your truth would be the hardest thing you’d ever done.

But, it had to be done.

“I… I didn’t see you. Today.” You begin. He smiles a little, the corner of his mouth tilting upward as his gaze fixates on your delicate fingers still sitting in his.

“…I didn’t know you’d been looking for me.” He says after a moment’s pause.

“I was,” You continue. “I had… a matter. To discuss, with you I mean.” You stammer. His eyes drift toward yours once more, gazing at you through his half lids.

“Mhm… and that matter was?” He prods. You sigh, pulling your hands from his grasp and turning from him. You pace, taking a few steps and then turning back toward him once more.

“What’s so important you can’t talk to me about? Come now, we’ve been friends for…” he tilts his head. “Well, forever, anyway.” He shrugs. You meet his gaze again, and he scoffs looking away. “Unless you came to tell me you dropped the male you’ve courted, I can only await the day-“

“I never courted a male, Eris.” It comes out more forcefully than you’d like, but it has him peering at you once more in confusion.

“What are you talking about.” His voice has dropped an octave. He doesn’t ask — he demands. Heat creeps up your neck, all the words in your head feeling like the milky substance of the Cauldron, bubbling, bubbling…

Bubbling over.

“I never had a male to begin with Eris, I only said that because I was doing things to try and get your attention, because every time I would think I was getting close with you, you’d shut me out so I made it up-“

“Stop.” His voice halts your rambling. The short red locks of his hair fall to his forehand as he shakes his head slowly, eyes downcast toward the ground below. “Just… stop.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it from trembling. You were sure he was going to banish you from speaking to him ever again, and you hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet.

“Eris, I… there’s more-“

“I slept with someone last night.” He interjects. You raise your eyebrows at his interruption, and his apologetic gaze meets yours after what feels like an eternity. “I went to a brothel. And I slept with another female.”

You only stare blankly at him. “Eris, that’s… you’re allowed to bed whomever you please-“

“Not when I’m so madly in love,” he steps forward, grasping your hands once more and holding them close to his chest. Your breath hitches, his eyes searching yours for any answers. “I’m in love, Y/N. I have been for a very long time, I think.” Your bottom lip quivers and you allow it, tears stinging the backs of your eyes as the moment you’d only ever dreamed of was finally happening right before you.

“Then why push me away for so long?” You whisper. Eris’s face falls slightly, but his hands slowly snake their way around your arms and down your back.

“I wouldn’t live if anything ever happened to you Y/N,” he says, leaning in closer. One tear falls as you gaze hopefully into his eyes, and he wipes it away with his thumb. “You know how my father is. He’d destroy anything I hold most dear to my heart.” He swallows thickly, and his nose bumps yours gently. One hand rests on your waist, the other still cupping your cheek as his thumb gently brushes over the skin.

Inch by inch, he pulls you closer, eyes fluttering closed when his soft lips finally touch yours again. This feels different, this kiss is so soft, so tender and full of love. You can’t help but allow a few stray tears fall, parting your lips to keep kissing Eris as your hands find their way to his shoulders. He holds you close to him, only pulling away to come up for air a few minutes later.

It’s quiet, the only sounds that are heard are your shared breaths and the fidgeting of the mares in their stalls around you. He gazes down at you, resting his forehead on yours before he shakes his head and chuckles. You can’t help but smile up at him.

“What is funny?” You ask. He sighs, pulling back a bit to run his gaze over your face, down your neck and over your chest.

“I’m but a fool for not realizing it sooner,” he mutters, still shaking his head. You only raise an eyebrow.

“Realizing… that we could have been together much sooner if you’d just allowed me in before now?” You tease. He looks skyward, contemplating.

“Perhaps,” he suggests. “Or, realizing the beautiful female who sits behind a desk all day is actually quite the little performer after hours,” your cheeks heat at his accusation — the realization that he’s finally figured it all out.

“Isn’t that right, bunny?” Your jaw drops dumbly, and he tuts.

“Ohhh bunny,” he purrs lowly, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Don’t leave your mouth open like that unless you want me to put something in it.” You close your mouth, eyes wide at his bold choice of words outside the confines of a private room. His hand has begun tracing idle circles through the fabric of your dress at your waist.

“Eris… I was going to tell you-“

“Doesn’t matter. Figured it out anyway.” He shrugs, his other hand moving to cup your cheek once more as his amber eyes bore into yours.

“Right now I’d rather you use those pretty lips to kiss me again anyway.”

ﾟ:* ✧

[buckys-little-belle]

Oh! What about hcs for Bucky and little! Reader during the fall? I get cold super easy but I love the colder months!

Fall Fun

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used)

Warnings - Talks of pumpkin carving, talks of Bucky being the Winter Soldier (Very very vague), Talks of (Bucky's) memory loss, Fall Fluff

Notes - I love fall! It's my favourite season and I had genuinely so much fun writing this!

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

Bucky loves the fall, it's his favorite season. He's not too hot, or too cold, and he finds he enjoys seeing how beautiful change can be. But most of all he loves all the activities the two of you can do together.

Most activities are ones done outside, and he is aware that you react to the cold different than him. Sure this is his perfect weather type, but you don't have the same super soldier blood he does.

So he keeps an extra jacket and sweater in his truck for you in case you're in need of an extra layer. He's also got a flannel blanket at the ready for long drives, and when buying the truck he made sure to buy one with heated seats. He never uses them, but with how often you turn yours on, he knows it was a worthy purchase.

He loves the pumpkin patch to an annoying extent. He could truly spend days there, especially with you by his side.

He has a whole seasons pass that allows unlimited corn maze trips, as many hay rides as he wants, and a total of 10 professional photos at those cute little stands where you stick your head through and end up being a pumpkin person. Trust, he has every photo framed around the house.

He also loves picking pumpkins with you, you'll give them all names and he'll do his best to remember which one was named Frank and which one was named Jeff. And he can't say no to you, he really can't, so the front porch of his house is home to 20 pumpkins by the end of fall.

He only lets you carve three, because he know you'll get bored if he tried to get you to do more. You tell him what you want them to look like and he'll do his best to sketch and carve the pumpkin the way you like.

You'd never tell him but he's actually not very good at art things like pumpkin carving, and you think you could do a better job, but he won't let you touch the sharp carving tools so your kitty cat pumpkin is lopsided, the flower looks more like an explosion, and the classic pumpkin face carving has two very different shaped eyes.

Bucky has a Pinterest account, he does, and he always is looking for new things to do to entertain you and him. Which is how you end up in the middle of a forest collecting all types of different leaves, putting them in a small book to press and dry.

You love all the colours, and Bucky takes a bunch of photos of you playing in the leaf piles, or just photos of you walking through the pretty forest, and his favorite photo is the one of you holding two leaves up proudly with a big smile on your face. (They were the biggest leaves the two of you found that day.)

Bucky always makes you wear mittens even if you don't think you need them. You argue that they're winter accessories but Bucky won't have it. He buys you mittens with pumpkins on them, or little leaves, so they look cute. He secretly has a deal with the grandma two doors down, she knits him your mittens and he buys her copious amounts of yarn.

Also fall baking? Bucky isn't a baker, but he does his best when you suggest you two make cupcakes that look like pumpkins. They actually turn out well, but the kitchen ends up a mess! And Bucky vows to never bake again ... Which was a short lived vow because two days later you two are back at it again making chocolate chip cookies with orange coloured chocolate chips.

All in all fall goes well every year. And it's the only season Bucky actively records. You don't know this for a few years but he actually scrapbooks every fall. The books are in his office and he pulls them out when he needs to remember something good.

Pictures of you in the forest line a bunch of pages, some selfies of the two of you are tucked in there, and every picture taken at the pumpkin patch has a spot. Leaves that you two pressed are glued to the pages with care, and he makes sure to photograph what your carved pumpkins look like each year.

He finds he likes making scrapbooks. Once in his life he forgot everything important to him. And sometimes he wonders what he still doesn't remember because there's nothing to remind him. So he keeps these tucked away in case he ever forgets, he keeps them so no matter what happens he'll always have proof that he loved you, that you loved him, and that beauty can exist during change.

[singt0me]

2024 writing year in review

tagged by my loves @hartigays & @nix-nihili (on my other blog @e-payne but imma just do this here)

(spoiler it's all DBD lmao the special interest hit HARD and she's still hitting)

June

it's a one way ticket to a madman's situation: DBD, Catcrow (T)

The Cat King says, “You could always stay with me. No, really. There’s plenty of room, it’s warm, and there’s lots of entertainment.” He grins at whatever expression Monty’s face has pulled itself into, all white teeth. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman, of course. Tell you what – I will happily take the couch for a while until you get settled in.” Monty says, “Let me think about it,” and turns and walks away. (After Esther Finch, Monty flies into the woods to find himself and ends up finding himself a new body.)

2. I can't sleep (In my head, we belong): DBD, Catcrow (E)

The Cat King barely flounders. “Cross my heart, hope to die.” “Don’t tease me,” Monty says. (Or: The little crow wakes up in the Dreaming.)

August

ghost in the mirror: DBD, Payneland (T)

Charles knows it isn’t possible—incorporeal disposition and all—but Charles dove head first into Hell and managed to blow up a demon with a Molotov cocktail less than a year ago, so with that logic it could very well be possible that Charles’ long dead heart starts to beat again. It certainly feels like it is racing out of his chest, slowly crawling up the column of his throat. The wrongness of the haunted look in Edwin’s eyes swims in the forefront of his mind, and something in him already knows. (Or: a new case leads them someplace far too familiar for Edwin, full of more than just ghosts.)

2. move out day: DBD, Payneland (T)

Edwin is saying, “I don’t believe anything in here will have any arcane value, seeing as it is quite further away from the main epicentre of activity, and I doubt—” Charles flicks an ugly bronze vase utilised as a paperweight and watches as it sings and changes colour to bright turquoise. Charles laughs and collects the little vase, spinning around to wiggle it at Edwin’s dumbfounded face. “Never say never, love. We’re keeping this one.” (Okay, so maybe they do make out in Edwin's childhood bedroom.)

September

Prologue: DBD, Payneland (T)

Charles looks him dead on, deep brown eyes shining. The mid-morning sun accents the striking features of his annoyingly perfect face, and Edwin digs his heels in. The anger over the whole situation outweighs the niggling desire to point-blank stare at Charles’ six-foot-one frame, all bed-head and boxer shorts, but only just. At the end of the day, Edwin is, by every definition of the word, a professional. (Or: the recording artist/manager au)

October

Like a record, baby: DBD, Payneland (T)

Charles’ crush on Edwin is starting to get a little out of hand. Turns out the internet is just as enamoured as he is. (Or: the one where Edwin accidentally goes viral after a couple of very confused photographers take some photos of him at an event. As one does.)

2. rule three, subpoint four: DBD, Payneland (M)

Edwin and Charles attempt to operate business as usual during the honeymoon phase.

November

Stay The Night: DBD, Payneland (E)

“Okay.” Charles laughs, breathy, and his eyes twinkle when he says, “I’ll be good.” A heat rises below the collar of Edwin’s shirt. Behind the tinted windshield, the waves crash on the shore. (Charles becomes a constant in Edwin's life.)

2. cinnamon, spice, and tangerine: DBD, Payneland (G)

After the fifth completed circuit of the greenhouse, Edwin starts to feel a bit ridiculous.

Tagging (no pressure): @persnickett @seaselkie @newtmsa @c-rowland @tumblerislovetumblerislife @paraphwrites @tragedy-machine @dear-lucrow @dear-monday 

[comfy-whumpee]

The Box

@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @rosesareviolentlyread, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @burtlederp, @mylifeisonthebookshelf

Josephina Engels sits with the box.

When she is at her kitchen table, eating cold pasta from Saturday night’s batch cooking session, she sits with the box. Its cardboard is slightly bent around the corners, the brown colouring uneven where it must have spent time in the sunlight. The lid fits snugly on, unadorned. It’s an odd box. It must be the kind that was bought just to be a box, not repurposed and reused as most boxes are. It has no personality except a little wear and tear.

When she is at her desk, messaging friends and working on her heritage research, she sits with the box. It is buried at the base of the family tree she sketches out, neat lines tracking siblings and marriages, dates written in pencil as she discovers them. The story of her family opens out with her at the centre, the middle child of three. B. 1849, she writes, after scrolling through handwritten records scanned two decades ago. B for born. M for married. D for death.

When she is half-curled across her sofa with a book open in her hands, she sits with the box. The stories she likes are historical romances, where the steps towards courtship are subtle and mild, and the barriers are antiquated and unrelatable. She turns the pages with a finger, slow over the paper. She loses herself in another time and another country, but the box is always in her mind.

When she is out with friends, the box is there. When she goes to work, the box is there. It’s under her seat on the train. It’s tucked amongst the street furniture when she walks. She feels like she should be carrying it around with her, never once letting it out of her sight. A little shoebox like that, and one that hasn’t even held shoes, should be unremarkable. But it won’t let go of her.

After a long day at work, where spreadsheet grids are burned into her eyes and her head throbs with each glare from each passing pair of headlights, she comes home to it. She drinks a glass of wine with dinner. She reads. She researches. She returns to it.

It makes her feel sick just by existing. Pulling it out is worse. Opening the lid is enough to make her feverish, her heart running wild and her blood rising to he surface. She glances at the curtains, closed. She resists the urge to check over her shoulder.

Her vision blurs as she reaches in. Her fingers flinch from the soft plastic of the toothbrush grip, as if its slight yield is cold flesh. Her fingers skim over the splintering wood of a roughly-sharpened pencil. Then they slide over paper.

She closes her eyes tightly enough to worsen her headache. She swallows each breath, fighting back a sob or a scream. She pulls out a random piece of paper from the pile. Some sheets are whole. Some are scraps, torn into halves or quarters. Some are folded, sharper corners pricking her fingertips. If they draw blood, she could sleep for a thousand years. She could wake up when all of this, and whatever it becomes, is ancient history.

She unfolds the paper. Her thumbs find the tiny indents of the writing, and feel the smooth, dusty graphite. She can feel her stomach pushing up against her ribs in rebellion.

She owes it to him to look.

Through swimming eyes, she can see it.

1. I must always obey Master.

She huffs out a lurching breath. It doesn’t get easier. It doesn’t ever, ever change. The grief twists and spasms and writhes, but some days the leech of it is weak and placid, clawless. This is what never fades.

Her stomach rebels against the words.

2. I must never question Master.

She’s sweating, or shivering, hot and cold. She should ask someone over to take care of her, but who could she ask? This is a whole other world to her colleagues and friends. Her parents don’t deserve this burden. Her sister has already faced too much.

Josie is the one who has to hold the box.

3. I must kneel and submit to Master.

God. She knows what it sounds like, when she reads that.

4. I must always address you as Master.

She tries to breathe. The words are true, and real, and held between her hands. No matter how badly they jar and splinter against the memories in her head, this is her reminder of how wrong she was. How wrong they all were.

5. I must make no noise unless invited to by Master.

She lets the paper fall, her legs pushing her back from the box. She needs a break. She needs to stop getting sucked into this endless, eternal spiral. Every time she opens the box, if she even thinks too hard about it, she ends up here.

She rubs her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands. Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be so close to her, and hurt so much?

There is nobody who can know. Nobody. Her brother’s memory depends on it, this secret she keeps in his shoebox. She can’t imagine ever saying it aloud. My brother was a monster. The details are too lurid, a horror story she lives inside. He banned his captive from making noise, so even when we were there outside, he didn’t call for help.

Marcie doesn’t talk about it anymore. Mum refuses to believe it. Dad clings to excuses. None of them want to know about the box. Josie was the only one who looked inside it, and she took it home to hide it, and the truth it held. She thought she was protecting them.

Even so, she can’t stop herself opening it, grasping the weapon to hurt herself over and over. Her eyes are drawn back to the paper. She can see the numbers continue down the page. Every piece of paper in the box has the same message.

She doesn’t need to read them anymore to know. She can remember the key parts. I must ask Master for permission. I must treasure Master’s touch. I must always thank Master for punishment.

Sometimes, she thinks that she should destroy it. It doesn’t make any difference, of course. The evidence was burned into his skin. She could, maybe, protect his memory from the world. She could let these details go unknown. The nauseating everydayness of the toothbrush, a reminder that he was there for years. The confessional pages of these rules, transcribed on repeat.

Why him? Why her brother? How could he do that to them? And how could he do that to someone? Josie has looked him up online, has read his missing person reports, and has watched the statement from his mother that she gave on his birthday. Ellis was a gentle, kind boy, who never hurt anyone.

She could still remember his smile, when Marcie had found him in the cupboard. She remembered his words. She hadn’t known his name until much later, because he didn’t give it.

12. I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.

She puts the lid back on the box and crawls into bed.