#best fanfic i’ve ever read. if you can even call it that. this isn’t even- i don’t even know what this is. all i know is that it’s art

[kissingrhi]

BRATTY ROMAN BRATTY ROMAN BRATTY ROMAN

when i say this fic has changed the trajectory of my life.

this writing????? oh my lord????? here’s my favs:

- “A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him.”

- “I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue.”

- “The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.” this is just fucking gorgeous

- “His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam.”

- “The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again.”

- “This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.”

- “My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.”

- “His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to.”

- “There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.” this entire paragraph… pure perfection.

- “He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.”

- “Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.”

- “There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it.” OH MY GOD

- “No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” this dialogue is sooooo fucking sexy get out

- “The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper.”

- “The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip.”

- “My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.” HOLY FUCKKKK

- “You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?” “romie?” i’m actually going insane thank you

- “Make a mess of yourself.” DAMN

- “Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth.” ??? this is literal art

- “I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” me too king!

don’t even get me started on the end… I’M OBSESSED. the characterization?? the dialogue?? the imagery??

op, if you are not even considering pursuing being an author or a poet, i will pay you money to merely consider the idea. holy fuck.

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

[bbtsficrecs]

BTS FIC RECS PART 4 Part 4 of some of my favourite BTS fanfics. Please do consider liking, reblogging and/or commenting on the fics you like. There are so many wonderful and amazing authors out there who do not get the recognition they deserve. So please send them lots of love to keep them going. If you're on here, then know I enjoyed every second of reading your story ♡ There will be two parts 4 as it's (sadly?) too long to be saved under one post. Stay tuned for part 5, joon recs will be added!

Please let me know if some of the links aren’t working. Happy reading!

⊹ Navi ‣ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.1 | Part 5 |

​⊹ Hell Is Empty - drabble Love triangle AU | a | @aquagustd​ ‣ An important phone call between Yoongi & OC.

⊹ You’re The Best I’ve Ever Had  Boyfriend Jungkook, Chubby reader | a, f, s | @adoredcore​​ ‣ Jungkook’s touches were so soft. So soft you almost barely even felt them. Keyword: almost. His smooth fingertips ran along your silky skin, while the tip of his pink tongue ran across the nape of your neck.

⊹ Fool Me Once Fuckboy AU | a, s | @jeonqkooks​​​ ‣ You never expect anything from Jungkook, but somehow he always manages to let you down.

⊹ Attitude CEO Jungkook au | s | @lushtans​​​ ‣ Your relationship with your CEO is... Rather complicated. Aside your professional relationship, he fucks you whenever he feels like it and as much as you hate to admit the truth, you love it. 

⊹ Don't Worry, Be Happy Daddy Jungkook AU, | f | @jvngkook97 ‣ "You guys have been trying to conceive for a little over a year now, but have yet to be fully successful."

⊹ Trap Idol Jungkook AU, | f | @jiminpitys ‣ In which you show up at your boyfriend's concert soundcheck as a surprise, and to your own, he’s wearing an outfit that’s bound to make you feel a certain way.

⊹ Addicted College AU, | f , s | @sparklingchim ‣ Your boyfie Jungkook fucking you silly.

⊹ B i g o l e f r e a k Friends with benefits AU | f , s | @joonberriess ‣ You’re both exclusive only to each other. Jungkook fucks the way he acts—crazy, hard. too bad you’re only here for the ride..

⊹ Foundation - Part 01, 02, 03 feat Yoongi Non-idol doctors AU | f , s, a | @hamsterclaw ‣ You know Jungkook is a fuckboy. So why are you letting him fuck with you? Featuring Yoongi.

⊹ Paint me naked Artist Jungkook AU | f , s, a | @gimmethatagustd ‣ After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?  

⊹ Why are you so late? Idol Jungkook AU | f , s | @kimnjss

‣ With such a packed scheduled, you’d think Jungkook would be on top of his game. But when a morning rolling around the sheets with you is thrown into the mix, it’s expected for him to want to take his time.

⊹ Our beloved summer - Series (on-going) Producer Jungkook AU | f, s, a | @jeonqkooks ‣ You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

⊹ Heaven can wait Chubby reader AU | f, s ish | @adoredcore ‣ "What’s a chance I’ll take baby I’ll stay heaven can wait."

⊹ Midnight cravings Established relationship AU | f | @hobiholic ‣ You want to go to the convenience store late at night to fulfill your midnight cravings but a sleepy Jungkook stops you.

⊹ Wet dreams Somnophilia AU | s | @kookiecrumb ‣ “I want you to use me…whenever you need me,”

⊹ Look at you -  Risqué drabble Risqué couple AU | s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Mirror shopping with your boyfriend turns into something else entirely.

⊹ In the middle of the night Friends with benefits AU | s, f | @joonsmoonluna ‣ It’s the middle of the night and Jungkook’s in need of you

⊹ Like I'm famous Idol Jungkook AU | s, f | @softyoongiionly ‣ It’s New Years Eve and Jungkook would rather be anywhere else than at his company’s massive party. Sure, he’s a guest of honor and his team rented out the nicest hotel in Seoul, but ringing in the New Year with you on the other side of the world just feels wrong. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to celebrate without the woman he loves, but maybe- just maybe…he won’t have to…

⊹ Strangers to lovers Established relationship AU | s | @kissmetae ‣ You’re a regular at the gym and today you decided to workout late. You thought you were alone, but it turned out there was one other person at the gym and you so happened to be his gym crush…

⊹ My dear friends Friends to lovers AU | s, f, a | @kooktrash ‣ Just friends? Keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.

⊹ Red - Part 03 Pregnancy AU | s, f, a | @taestefully-in-luv ‣ You drunkenly sleep with your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Can’t be that bad right? Unless he gets you pregnant.

⊹ As we were - Series (on-going) Cheating/Infidelity AU | s, a | @archivedkookie ‣ Your husband cheats on you and find comfort in someone else’s arms. He claims he’s happy—but is he really?

⊹ Imagine Model Jungkook AU | s, f | @chryblossomjjk ‣ Jungkook wants nothing more than to spend your anniversary cuddled up in a fancy hotel bathroom, eating takeout and binge watching TV shows. You, on the other hand, have something more exciting in mind. 

⊹ Practice - part 02, 03 Fuckboy Jungkook AU | s, a | @chryblossomjjk ‣ You usually spend Friday nights on your own. Tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, Jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

⊹ Lost Cause Cheating AU | a | @kooksbunnnn ‣ Jungkook comes back to you after his 10 day trip to Busan, and you sense something different about him. 

⊹ The Boy With Galaxies In His Eyes Idol AU | a, s, f | @oddinary4bts ‣ You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

⊹ Beyond Infinity - As We Were drabble As We Were Couple AU | a, s, f | @archivedkookie ‣ Jungkook does something you always dreamt about, and it ends up with the most beautiful night of your life.

⊹ What If I Love You Too Much Single Mom AU | a, s, f | @taleasnewastime ‣ Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself.

⊹ Services For A Queen Sub!JK AU | s | @taegonia ‣ Jungkook serves his queen in more ways than just as the royal head of security.

⊹ Cold Nights & Blurred Lines FWB & College AU | a, s, f | @awrkive ‣ Jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. But as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. Is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? It definitely is. Will you do something about it? Both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

⊹ Strictly Platonic Bestfriends to Lovers & College AU | a, s, f | @jeonqkooks ‣ Sometimes, Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

⊹ In The Middle Of The Night FWB AU | s, f | @joonsmoonluna ‣  it’s the middle of the night and Jungkook’s in need of you ⊹ Perfectionist Dancer AU | s | @miraclesatnightfall ‣ "He watched you, with each sensual step you made his eyes darkened with explicit desire" ⊹ Tangle Free Establish Relationship AU | f | @here4btsfics ‣ Bad days lead to you needing your boyfriend for comfort, specifically by playing with his hair.

⊹ As It Was - Apart of Boy With Love Series (on-going) College AU | a | @ggukiepie ‣ You bump into Jungkook days after you find out he has a girlfriend; things don't go so well

⊹ The Habits Of A Broken Heart Soulmate & Unrequited love AU | a, f | @softykooky ‣ Jungkook and you are soulmates. So says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. However, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.  ⊹ Blackout - part 02, 03 Best friends to Lovers | s, a, f | @jjungxkook ‣ Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.

⊹ Step Brother Step Siblings AU | s | @aris-ink ‣ Sub yn *innocently* dry humps her step brother jk while he plays video games.

⊹ Forbidden Romance Step Siblings AU | s | @aris-ink ‣ "It wasn’t unusual for your stepbrother to check up on you before bed. You’ve grown closer than you initially thought you would; it turned out that beneath the surface, you and Jungkook weren’t that different, after all."

⊹ My Perfect Patient Dentist Office AU | s, f | @pinkcherrybombs ‣ Jaw pain is just as much of a pain in the mouth as it is in the ass, but don't worry, your favorite dentist is sure to fix you right up, using some special methods.

⊹ Confessions - part 02 Office AU | a | @pinkcherrybombs ‣ Since we're about to die, I need you to know, I've always loved you, Jungkook.

⊹ Getting Railed Boyfriend Jungkook AU | s | @dearlytea ‣ Getting dicked by your boyfriend during a train ride.

⊹ Make You Mine College AU | a, s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. But everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.

⊹ Catch 22 College AU | s, f | @alluremin ‣ You and your best friend had agreed: college was for a good time only, no serious relationships were necessary. Who knew that a frat boy would be the one to shake up that notion?

⊹ Tolerate It - part 02 Failing marriage! au | a | @lmaosope ‣ Marriage is difficult, and every married couple fights. but jungkook has been late one too many times and broken one too many promises. it has you wondering why you give everything for a man who simply tolerates you.

⊹ Make You Mine Jock Jk au | a , s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. But everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.

⊹ His Throne - 01, 02, 03 Prince JK au | a, s, f | @jiminsa ‣ You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Jeon Jungkook on his throne.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

canon vs fanon colorkiller,,, thoughts?

also what do you think they’d be like in a modern adjacent au? like in a normal city, no murder or anything. i think they click regardless of au or timeline but i wanna know your thoughts

Quick warning: brief talk about abuse, cults, and trafficking.

To be honest, I’ve mostly seen a fair mixture of “fanon” and “canon” colorkiller lately, and I think the fanon bits can actually be done pretty well. I remember reading a fanfic where Killer decided to stay with Nightmare, but that was only because Nightmare had gradually began to realize what he was doing and began to care about his Gang gradually.

But that didn’t erase Killer and Nightmare’s past even if Stage 2 had forgiven him, because Stage 1 always still avoided him and was terrified of the rest of the Gang at first and would always run to Color for safety. And of course Color didn’t trust Nightmare yet. And I remember like an argument between Stage 2 and Color about Nightmare, about how in the past Color just wanted Stage 1–a Sans—and would often just look through Killer as if he weren’t there, so of course he clung to Nightmare.

The fic ended pretty great when they managed to talk it out, but I absolutely think both can be done pretty well in AUs where Killer chose to join Nightmare, or otherwise decides to stay. Because ultimately the two just understand eachother, and Color offers Killer something he hasn’t had in a long time and something he needs. A somewhat normal life, a safe life, not to mention just the good friend Color is. (Or tries his best to be.)

As for in a modern au, I’m going to project my own experience on them because I was once someone’s Color and I need things to go better for them.

I will say, Color is Killer’s online friend in a modern/high school AU. They met through a common interest, and immediately clicked right off the bat. Killer trusted him in a way he usually didn’t with anyone else, online or otherwise.

I will say that this gets even more vital and important if Killer lives in either an abusive home, or something more similar to his canon situation—either a cult or being labor trafficked, and he managed to be “good enough” to earn phone privileges—even if highly monitored and Killer has to hide Color’s existence, and it’s Color that makes Killer realize that his situation that he might’ve been born and raised in is strange.

And they make a plan for Killer to escape, gather information to call the police, and a year or two later, Killer is finally free (maybe even adopted/taken in by a kinder version of Nightmare, or perhaps Nightmare managed to physically save Killer.)

And so the only ones who know about Killer’s situation are Nightmare and Color, who Killer excessively tries to always talk to whenever he hears a single notification.

He gains a rep for being addicted to his phone, but it’s really just because he doesn’t want to miss a single message from Color (even hearing the ping has a tendency to almost cause him switch him into Stage 1 if he isn’t careful. It gets better but it often still happens because Killer gets too excited)—not to mention ingrained instincts from having to hide Color’s existence for both their safety. They talk all the time, have thousands of messages and pictures sent back and forth and follow eachother on every piece of social media.

They haven’t met in person yet (perhaps Killer is still adjusting to being around others so often, and doesn’t feel ready for meeting Color), but Killer is often stuck on his phone until he meets other pals such as Dust and Horror and Cross, even if he does often blatantly refuse to ever ignore Color’s messages. (Despite Color’s reassurance that it’s okay and he should be focusing on other things too.)

(And because Color’s whole thing is traveling, maybe they even eventually meet in person because Color is a transfer student or studying abroad at Killer’s school.)

( @wickjump ).

[xxmaxwellxx]

Very sorry but can someone help me find another twst fic? It was more like headcannons but it’s where reader was at a masquerade/ball type event and rollo was there, my memory isn’t the best so forgive me, but I think rollo and reader dance and the boys watch with jealousy but I remember rollo taking reader out on some kind of balcony and either trying to kiss reader or convince them to leave the boys. I’m pretty sure it was the second one with him spouting off something about purity. I remember Azul for sure being in this one and I think malleus was in there too but I think they kiss reader in front of him or take them back inside at the end of their respective headcannons. Edit: here’s the link! https://www.tumblr.com/cyn-write/731537190125961216/i-feel-her-i-see-her

If anyone could help me I would be very grateful. Also if you recognize my username/me asking for help so many times and want an explanation I’ll leave it under the cut because it’s probably going to be me trauma dumping.

Hi, I’m Max. I have an anxiety disorder. The reason I’ve asked for help so many times and in so many fandoms is partly because of my anxiety. I recently got a new phone and I’ve had a hard time adjusting because all the screenshots I have of the fanfic I’ve read is on my old phone. If you’re wondering why I haven’t just airdropped the screenshots to my new phone it’s because I had so many screenshots that it took up all 64gb on my phone, not all of them were screenshots but about half of my storage was taken up by them. And when I think of a fanfic that’s not in my new camera roll I panic, and when I can’t find it by googling it or looking for it here on tumblr I panic even more. Just a few days ago I spent eight hours looking through my old phone for a fanfic that wasn’t even on there, I found it eventually but I was in tears begging whatever god that would listen to help me find it by the end. If you’re wondering why I get so worked up over fanfic of all things it’s because a few years back when I first found fanfiction I was depressed and suicidal do to living conditions I won’t go into, I used it as an escape so I wouldn’t have to face reality and ever since then fanfiction became such a huge part of my identity that I couldn’t imagine myself not reading it and I genuinely panic over not being able to find the ones I’m looking for. I’m on medication and looking for a therapist, I’m getting better I think, but it’s been hard. Im not trying to guilt trip and I’m not writing this for pity or sympathy or anything like that, I just think that where I post in so many tags, sometimes multiple times, I owe people an explanation. I might just be over thinking it but I imagine someone scrolling through their favorite tags and seeing me there and helping me out and then seeing me over and over again and getting annoyed so I feel like I owe people answers on why I’m asking for help so much. I feel guilty asking for help so much but I genuinely loose sleep over this. I’m very grateful for the people helping, trying to help and have helped me. It’s why I try to thank them even if they didn’t find the one I was looking for, just knowing people are willing to help puts me at ease and I usually post my requests for help before going to sleep because just talking about something with people who know what I’m talking about or is in the same fandom as me puts me at ease. If I’m annoying I’m sorry but just putting something out there where there are people who are willing to help and don’t judge me for it helps me sleep at night. Sorry for rambling and call me stupid or crazy or anything like that but I’m trying to get better, I really am and putting posts out there with the hope that someone can help calms my anxiety. Even if I don’t get a link or answers or get to reader the fic again just posting and talking about it helps me, like letting go of it and letting it drift away. Thank you for reading and I’m sorry.

[crystalizedcryolite]

Mk, first of all—Hiiiii! I absolutely looove your work. And also: ITS OCTOBER, CRYOLITE. WHERE IS THE NEW OGTDWV CHAPTER? I NEED MY GRAPEDUO AND LONLEY RED AND ALSO BLUE LEMONADE!! (You remember, this fanfic you haven’t updated yet? Don’t question why I have your official art saved in my photo library)

Secondly—can I just say your fan fictions are the best? Like, I was introduced to you when I read Rhapsody in Green, and then I saw and read this and now I’m more interested in superheroes than I ever was before.

Thirdly—How are you like; the only person I’ve come across who’s a writer and an artist? I feel like I’m the only one but then you exist?? What????

NUMERO QUATRO—Thank Alan I’m not the only one who headcannons Green as genderfluid. There isn’t enough Genderfluid Green in this world. Even though I disagree on the Purple being taller than Green, like… I’m sorry but short Purple calls to me. Something about Purple being the short responsible older one and Green being the tall flirty cringe younger one who dies from fall damage whilst trying to impress Purple. (If you know, you know.)

THRICE—I must eat your fanfics and run away.

Lasty—Could you draw some OGTDWV fanart while your writing? Or maybe just some snippets of like, writing or something? I dunno. It’s just trust me I understand how long chapters are to write but I need more content of this or I will spontaneously combust from lack of fluff. Or am I gonna have to reread Rhapsody in Green and Fading Frequencies again?

Holy sticks that was a lot. I have a lot to say. Sorry about me and my strangely introverted mouth. Well, anyway, Ty for reading!! Love you’re work and if you don’t update soon I have a 2318 PowerPoint presentation about how I’m going to find you and destroy you 😁 and also I would continue the fanfic instead. MMK THANKS BYEEEEEE

WOAHH HEY :DDD

Yes, I'm aware of the lack of OGTDWV updates, but school and burn out has been driving me nuts lately which is why it's been a while, BUT, I'm getting there! <3

AWWW- TYSMMM!!

I'm sure there's a lot of creators out there who are both writers AND artists. If I remember correctly, @/Purpur (if that's the right user) has a royal grapeduo au that has both art and fic, so there's that! But I definitely see what you mean.

Oh, I LOVE genderfluid Green! And I like to make Purple the taller one because- idkk?? The thought of Purple looking all tall and intimidating while still a villain and Green just simping in their shadow amused me too much, hehe

I can definitely do that, actually! Probably not now, but I can do that in the near future! (Don't worry, next chapter will be FILLED with grapeduo and fluff!)

PFFFF- that's enough motivation to keep writing. I'm only a few scenes short!! I just got to get it together!! /silly

Thanks for the long message! I don't normally get asks about my other works so this was great <3

[m1ckeyb3rry]

tips and tricks on writing fanfic if u have any i beg <3<3

i have wrote so much throughout my life but it never feels like it flows right yk? i just want to write my silly characters being devastating with eachother

and you are infact my fav fic writer ever so pretty please <3

(its fine if not lol just may as well ask)

hihi!! sorry this took me a sec to respond to lol but yes ofc i can do my best to help!! and apologies in advance if any of this isn’t helpful/applicable 😓 i’ll put it all under the cut just because i can sense myself rambling in advance why did it end up being an entire thesis

okayyy so the most important thing for me when writing is having my plot and characters be in constant conversation with one another. typically i will come up with a very vague idea for a plot, which will then tell me exactly what kind of main characters i need to write, and from there, i build my cast!! it’s why i’m always afraid of writing characters ooc — typically i take aspects of the pre-existing character from canon and then expand on them so that they fit the plot i want, and sometimes i get worried that that means i’ve changed them too much LMAO.

once i understand what i want from my characters, i start to write. i usually have to rewrite my first chapter a few times as i get a feel for the characters and their perspectives, especially my pov character (we’ll call them mc for the sake of simplicity moving forward). it’s only after i feel like the mc’s voice and personality have been established that i can continue. i like to understand a character well enough that i can intuitively know how they would respond to any given situation. it makes it much easier in the future!! because once you’ve established a character, you can’t change them. i’ll use glass princess as an example because ik you’ve read it — if i wanted to write a slight different story, i could’ve written the mc to be a ruthless killer who has a short temper and resents her brother. however, i then would’ve had to work within the constraints of that character’s outlook instead of the constraints of current mc’s character!!

that’s why i typically only have loose ideas for plots. after i begin writing, i let my characters tell me what they want to do. they usually know what they want better than i do!! a lot of my “best” scenes have been entirely unplanned and based on me just following the characters’ actions to their natural conclusion. i guess you could say i go into each chapter having an idea of what the “inciting event” for the chapter will be — for example, mc runs to the tea shop the day after meeting the blue spirit, but the results of that inciting event are based more on my knowledge of my characters than any preconceived outlining or plotting. along the same lines, EVERY time i’ve had writer’s block with a fic (that was unrelated to me losing interest in the fandom/character/storyline) it’s been because i’ve forced my characters into a situation that they would not naturally end up in. my best example of this is a story i started writing with a very cold main character; she meets an injured enemy soldier who has lost his memories, and the plot was meant to revolve around her nursing him back to health and falling in love with him. however, given her character and the backstory i knew she had, i genuinely couldn’t come up with a single reason for why she would heal him instead of just killing him or turning him in, so i literally abandoned the story 😭 essentially i would recommend solid understanding of characters over a solid understanding of your plot 100% of the time. imo strong, well-rounded characters can carry even the shittiest of plots, but the opposite is rarely if ever true.

that was a lot of theory stuff!! as for where i get my ideas (not exactly what you asked but tangentially related so i’ll add it in here in case anyone else is reading and wants to know), it depends on the kind of fic i’m writing. my favorite fics are canon-verse, and for those fics i try to look for niches in the source material that aren’t already filled and make a character for it. the best example of this that i can think of off of the bat is two of my aot fics — in one, the mc is a member of the military police and the first interior squad, and in the other, the mc is a warrior candidate during the events of the show. both of these roles aren’t really filled by canon characters, so creating these characters allows me to look at plot events in a new light, which lets me expand the fic into something beyond just a rehashing of canon. in terms of au’s…to be honest listening to music is huge for me!! i’ll scroll through tik tok and hear an audio that inspires me, and once i have a vibe for what i want to write, i’ll search for similar songs that help me picture the general aesthetic of the au. the idea for my one bllk fic peregrine was conceived when i heard a snippet of the song welcome and goodbye by dream, ivory, on tik tok!! overall i don’t really like writing straight au’s that much though. idk why but in my experience every time i’ve tried to write an au fic i’ve gotten bored of it much much quicker than i would’ve with a more canon-based story. that’s just me personally though!!! i do loveeee worldbuilding though HAHA the amount of fantasy worlds i’ve created but never written for is horrific.

when it comes to things like grammar, sentence structure, and word choice, the only two things you can do to improve are reading and writing a LOT. at first, you should read more than you write, and when i say reading, it can be literally anything. find what you do and don’t like from all of the authors you encounter, and try to incorporate the pros into your writings while noticing the cons in your own work. it’s not plagiarism! you won’t be able to copy any author’s style completely, and if you engage in enough kinds of works, you’ll become a blend of so many different styles that it won’t sound copied or anything. then, once you’re comfortable mixing and matching depending on what scene you’re writing (maybe for a serious scene, you take references from a classical novel, whereas for a more lighthearted moment, you look at a social media au to see what kind of jokes might land with a broader audience), you can start to develop your own style!! it’ll come naturally as you go. the more you write, the more you will be certain of yourself and the way YOU would write something. the mixing and matching will smooth into one style that flows more naturally and does what you need, when you need it.

my final advice is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to others!! just because your writing doesn’t sound like your favorite author’s doesn’t mean it’s any worse. i’ve read amazing stories that are nothing like my own — it doesn’t mean that mine are worse than those stories, just different. there is a place in this world for every single story!! and it’s inevitable that you will look back on your old writing and cringe. i do!! i cannot read anything i wrote more than a year ago because i’ve improved so much that the old stuff is embarrassing to me. if you don’t push through the fear of cringe, though, you’ll never get anywhere. i’m not sure if you’re planning on posting anything ever, but i can say with certainty that if you do, there will be someone who reads and loves it. there’s people who still comment on and read and love my stories from 2021 that i absolutely despise now (it’s the only reason they haven’t been deleted yet). oftentimes we are our own worst critics, and also, knowing the plot ahead of time doesn’t help (writing suspenseful scenes is SO HARD when you know what’s coming 😭). your readers will love what you write, probably even more than you do!!

i hope that that was helpful and i’m so sorry for writing a literal essay OMG. like this is such a long post 😓 if you have any questions about what i wrote or about a specific aspect of the fic writing process, then lmk!! i’m always happy to help 🫶🏻

[sidewalk-cracks]

Badger Cereal Fic Recs

I am heinously picky when it comes to fanfic, so for those of ya’ll hungry for badger cereal and in need of good fics: COME GET YA’LL’S FOOD. 

1. (we are) the fault line by @iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid . This is my number one favorite dp fic of all time, tho... it’s not technically badger cereal? Danny’s only in the fic for like, 2 seconds, but it’s still got parental/protective Vlad and found family, and it’s flawless so I’m including it anyway. A basic summary is: Sam, Tucker, Dani, and Valerie team up with Vlad to rescue Danny from the government. Road trip fic featuring angst, hurt/comfort, buckets of found family, and incredible humor. Word count: 46k

2. How to Mentor a Troubled Ghost Child by @ectopal (and its sequel oneshot). This is my second favorite dp fic of all time, and it’s an actual proper badger cereal fic lol. Quick summary: Vlad has a mini-crisis and starts to work on getting his life together, starting with how he treats Danny. Enemies to friends to mentor/mentee, hurt/comfort, EXTREMELY FLUFFY AND WHOLESOME. Word count: 23k

3. Humans and Ghosts by RedGhost1010. I think this was one of the first dp fics I ever read. Not centrally focused on badger cereal, but it comes into play in the last one or two chapters, and I at least was surprised and delighted by it. Quick summary: Danny’s life is basically just falling apart, largely because Jack and Maddie aren’t the best parents. Angst warning, Danny whump, lots of Good Sister Jazz, protective Vlad at the end. Word count: 26k

4. Overshadowed by @whereonceiwasfire . This fic’s a commitment but it was a super cool read; the fight scenes were awesome and I was vibing so hard with the badger cereal. Basic summary: College-age Danny is having a rough time and it just gets worse when a certain enemy- heck, you could even say his ultimate enemy- comes back for a rematch. Fic is 95% heavy angst, some crumbs of h/c, heavy focus on badger cereal, character death and it might not be who you expect, epic anime-style fights, not sure if you’d call it a satisfying ending but it’s an ending. Word count: 142k

5. Untethered by  @life-jim-but-not-as-we-know-it (”draculard” on AO3). This is a brand new badger cereal fic that was posted only a week or two ago, so only the first chapter is out, but that so far is excellent. the Official Summary for the fic: There was a dead boy on Vlad Masters’ doorstep. So far featuring angst, hurt/comfort, big Danny!whump and protective!Vlad. Current word count: 486 words

6. Conspiracy by @elowenp . Super cute oneshot! Vlad’s not actually in it, but it’s still about badger cereal. Quick summary: Jazz (and friends) are trying to convince Danny to stay with Vlad since his parents are constantly trying to kill his alter ego. Humor and fluff. Word count: 1.5K

7. Still Better Than Google Translate by Hollyflash. I legitimately laughed out loud reading this one. Basic summary: Danny reluctantly asks Vlad to teach him Russian. This isn’t an overly spectacular idea, and it almost immediately dives off the rails. Humor/comedy, Vlad’s suffering is hilarious. Word count: 2k

I probably have more in my ao3 bookmarks that I’ve forgotten, and I’ve got a bunch of potentially good fics I’ve saved for later that I haven’t read yet, so if I find any more good ones I can reblog this or make a second post with them! :)

[additiva]

oh god. i’ve read frechheit since it was only the first chapter out and i remember thinking: fuck i hope i survive long enough to read until the end of this fic because it’s just THAT good. for a little unnecessary background, i was a freshman going through my second semester and struggling with a lot of things but i’d always drop everything whenever i saw frechheit update.

i saw how the chapter count gradually went up as you kept updating, and i loved the progression of each chapter. your characterizations are by far some of the best i’ve ever read in any fandom. you nailed their mannerisms and speaking styles! and i love the way you write charles and max. it hits the spot so well. because very often you will find people saying that “oh charles is a golden retriever and max is the black cat” or “oh charles is the sunshine and max is the midnight rain” when the facts are that charles literally pushed max off as a kid and since then he’s been on a revenge spree to make sure max regrets it. max literally apologizes to charles even when he doesn’t do it to anybody else because he knows charles can hold a grudge. this is the same charles who max pushed off in austria 2019 and then got back at him in silverstone going “oh so that was racing? i’ll show you racing *insert angry hissy cat noises*”

i just love how max slowly goes from absolutely loathing charles’s little schemes to then understanding them and then finally getting roped into them. at the final few chapters it was so cute seeing max excited to be involved in charles’s manipulation tactics like that’s HIS baby with HIS evil schemes…

there’s so many things to love about this fic but ultimately it boils down to how well you write them. how, even in an alternate universe where charles is younger than max, they both start out hating each other, before falling absolutely, indeniably, irrevocably in love with each other. i love the way they grow individually and as partners—the way charles goes from angry hissy cat who has to do everything himself, to an angry hissy cat with his boyfriend who would give up the world for him. i love the way they love—charles learning to open up to max, max learning how to be patient with charles; charles always being there for max, and max slowly coping and coming to terms with losing at the end. the last one especially—those paragraphs of max detailing how it had been hard to stomach his slow defeat, but then when charles won he’d just been. Happy. he was willing to give everything up realizing winning wasn’t everything because he’d already found his everything.

and that’s just it, isn’t it? throughout the fic, charles and max learn to accept having to lose themselves before they reap the sweet sweet taste of victory at the end. winning isn’t everything anymore because now they’ve found each other and the best part is that they can win by each other’s side.

thank you for this amazing fic. like. honestly. i will love this forever. one of the best fanfics i’ve ever read in years.

P.S. i also found it very amusing when the fic mentioned a year where both charles and max suffered issues and the wdc ended up going to oscar and they both were cheerful but also. Yeah. Let’s never let that happen again. i bet they terrorized the grid for so long hogging the podium places, the wdc standings, and the wdc trophies that eventually the cooldown room gets called the lestappen podcast and each week the drivers get roped into becoming either 1) their unwilling third wheel, 2) their unwilling couples’ therapist for when they’re angry about trivial things like max accidentally making charles fall asleep without making him do his skincare routine, or 3) their unwilling child (ollie bearman).

Omg amazing.

This is the kind of message I save so I can reread it many times 🤍

It's so nice hearing from people who went through the whole journey with me since the earliest chapters. You truly saw the whole evolution.

I'm so glad it could bring you some joy when you were going through things. I hope things have improved for you, you deserve only the best. You're clearly a person who goes out of their way to brighten someone else's day and I hope you get the same energy back.

Also *angry hissy cat* is the perfect description for Frech-Charles at so many points in the fic I picture him this way exactly.

I hope you didn't mind me increasing the chapter count so many times 😅 I was truly winging the fic, based on vibes and a few key plot elements. You could probably tell lol.

[ninazadzia]

Why I ship Bucklena, and I hope the Thunderbolts movie pairs them together

https://twitter.com/Gothamette/status/1488939466852945923

Link to the fanmade trailer this screenshot is pulled from here. 

Okay, so I’ll start off by saying this - if the execs at Marvel Studios have the cojones to make Yelena asexual/aroace, like she is in the comics (at least from what I’ve seen online, haven’t read all of the comics so I can’t speak to how canon this is), I am 100% on board, and give the studio a lot of credit for showcasing asexual representation in a *huge* property.

However, as this twitter thread delineates way more eloquently than I could ever hope to, there is a very good chance that either Yelena’s sexuality will not be addressed at all in the Thunderbolts movie, or they’ll pair her in a heterosexual relationship - in which case, if it’s the latter, Bucky Barnes is the obvious (and, imho, only) choice. But before I say anything else, I just wanted to get that out of the way - I am all for asexual representation in Marvel properties, and genuinely, if Yelena being asexual is explicitly made canon in the MCU, I’m on board. *Editing to add, because this was an oversight on my part ~ if Yelena is confirmed as lesbian/bisexual, and the writers decide to pair her with a woman (like, say, Kate Bishop or Wanda Maximoff), I’d support that as well. FOR THE RECORD*

But until that happens ~ Yelena Belova and Bucky Barnes are the best potential pairing in the MCU, imho, possibly ever.

In case you’re new here + haven’t been spammed by the Bucklena fanfiction writing kick I’ve been on these last couple of months - hi, I’m your resident 27-year-old fanfic writer, and I’ve written fanfic for over half of my lifetime, for just about every fandom you can think of. I generally veer towards pairings that are canon-adjacent (not quite crackships, *could* feasibly be made canon, but it likely isn’t gonna happen), and in the MCU have shipped ScarletStrange, Romanogers, Kate Bishop x Peter Parker, etc. Given that Bucky and Yelena are about to be in a movie together, and not currently engaged in existing romantic relationship - of the list of pairings I’ve outlined above, they’re the most likely to wind up having some sort of romantic relationship. And I’mma tell you why I’d be excited to see that happen.

#1) They have similar backgrounds, and can relate easily to one another

This one is fairly self-explanatory - their stories have obvious parallels. Both were brainwashed by Russian organizations, turned into assassins against their will, and defected/escaped later on in life. While Bucky has displayed clear signs of PTSD, from what we’ve seen, Yelena is a little tougher to read/more stoic, however this could be a front - regardless, their respective ways of dealing with their past traumas could be an interesting dynamic to explore in the Thunderbolts movie, particularly since of the two of them, Bucky is going to take on more of a “Team Leader” role, if you will. Maybe part of Bucky’s job is going to be to get Yelena to open up? Whatever it is, I’m game.

#2) While they have a hard exterior, both are not-so-secret softies, and are sentimental when it comes to their found families

Case in point: Yelena’s reaction to Alexei calling their family unit back in Ohio “fake,” and Bucky’s reaction to Sam giving up Cap’s shield in Falcon + The Winter Soldier. They’ve both lost so much (their biological families, friends, years of their lives to evil organizations, etc.), and neither of them have much of a support system + family unit. And while that alone shouldn’t be the basis of a relationship, the way they view their “found families,” and the respect they both have for it - Bucky with Steve, and Yelena with Melina, Alexei and Natasha - shows they have similar values, and want the same things, even if they don’t state it explicitly.

#3) Yelena is effortlessly charismatic, and Bucky - while a bit out of practice - can be quite charming, too

Look no further than Yelena’s scenes with Kate Bishop in Hawkeye, and Bucky in just about all of the first Captain America movie - Yelena isn’t necessarily flirty, per se, but she has a natural charisma that radiates in her conversations. And Bucky, while definitely rusty and in need of some of some practice, is a complete flirt when he’s interested in someone, which could make for some entertaining banter + chemistry between the two. 

And, finally ~

#4) They both deserve love + happiness, probably more than any two characters in the MCU

This is another one, imho, that’s pretty self explanatory - Bucky and Yelena have both been through A LOT. They’ve both lost people, spent years of their lives brainwashed, and somehow, they’re still standing - and beyond that, they still live by a moral code, and aren’t villains/didn’t allow their traumas to make them evil. They deserve some happiness, and if it’s as a romantic relationship, awesome.

[blueberry-ovaries]

MISC. TAG GAME:

thank you for the tag @ronald-speirs, @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop and @grumpy-liebgott !!! sorry it took me so long!

Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

oooh okay so recently i came back from europe, and i literally loved it so much! i oddly enough LOVED vatican city! and i absolutely adored venice and paris! however, london was also really nice! (i cannot decide i’m so sorry😭)

Something you’re proud of yourself for?

Honestly, going to University! Even when it’s hard and i hate it and have no idea what i’m doing, the fact i made it into university is something i’m very proud of!

Favourite books?

the picture of dorian gray - Oscar Wilde

a good girls guide to murder - Holly Jackson

5 survive - Holly Jackson

the outsiders - S.E Hinton

of mice and men - John Steinbeck

Something that makes your heart happy when you think about it?

my dog :) - his name is cisco and he was free to a good home and under fed, and now he gets treats every time we leave the house and sleeps on the bed

Favourite thing about your culture?

about being Australian? I would suppose our love for sport. We play so many sports over here and we support the aussies even if we don’t like the sport! For example the Matilda’s, our women’s soccer team! Soccer isn’t as big as AFL over here, but i’ve never seen so much support behind Womens soccer, let alone ANY soccer, as we’re very proud of our sporting teams!

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

close to two years ago? i’m not too sure, but i watched BoB first!

Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

I have not! but i am trying to get my hands on the Dick Winters and Ron Speirs books!

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

Babe Heffron! and the “are you serious?! only the goddamn nuns call me Edward” BUT the scene with Gene in the fox hole where Babe mocks Gene calling him Babe is a very close second

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

i have been known to dabble in other fandoms on other apps in fanfic writing 🤭

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

ANDREW GARFIELD!!! and i am The Amazing spider-man enthusiast!!! (plus hacksaw ridge is a masterpiece)

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

Some quotes my dad likes to tell me when i’m really anxious over university/ actively having a panic attack are:

“you can only do what you can do” - which pretty much means that all i can do is my best, and the rest will sort itself out, there’s no use stressing over situations i have no control over.

“how do you eat an elephant?” - which basically means, to tackle something large you take it one step at a time, ergo - to eat an elephant you eat it piece by piece

Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

Oh God, i’m not a very interesting person 🧍🏼‍♀️

I got swooped by birds in a century once and have hated birds ever since

If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?

i do not have a beta reader 🤭 so position is potentially open 🤭

Three things that make you smile?

- sunsets! i LOVE watching sunsets i just think they are so pretty!

- rainy days (only when i’m inside) But i love rainy days, when i can sit by a window to read or do homework etc. I just think there is something so beautiful about rain!

- chocolate chip cookies :) my FAVOURITE cookies! i do not care if they are basic i love them sm

Any nicknames you like?

most of my nicknames :) But especially the nicknames that my parents give me :))

List some people you love to see around on tumblr:

i’m so sorry if i forget anyone @malarkgirlypop @ronald-speirs @ronsparky @mads-nixon @panzershrike-pretz @executethyself35 @next-autopsy @winnielefou @1waveshortofashipwreck @footprintsinthesxnd @caffeinated-fan @dontirrigateme @softliebgott @xxluckystrike @easycompany123 (+ all my mutuals who i have not tagged, love y’all i just have shocking name recollection)

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

i mean it would depend on what kinda zombies?? But most likely keeping friends and family alive.

Realistically, dying. i’m not dealing with all that.

Favorite movie?

mulan!!! i LOVE mulan (clearly… i’m literally writing a fic with mulan ideas)

Do you like horror movies?

i got a live hate relationship with them. Like i HATE religious horror with a passion, it freaks me the fuck out, but the conjuring series has great story lines?? However i watched the nun once and i swear to god i almost shit myself whenever k had to leave my room at night?! I was CONVINCED that motherfucker was gonna be in my house.

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @mads-nixon @easycompany123 @executethyself35 @montied @ronsparky @dontirrigateme (plus everyone else who would like to do this! consider this an offical tag!)

[jokerislandgirl32]

New Beginnings: A Wild Violet One Shot

Okay so I’m super behind in the game, but I wanted to complete at least a couple pieces for the Drabblecember challenge, and even though it’s the 29th of December, I decided to go ahead and share this piece with you all. It became more of a one shot than a Drabble, I hope that it okay! It is a very important piece to me because it signifies a very special moment in the relationship between my f/o Zach and s/i Violet. And this is the first fanfic piece I’ve posted in forever, so yeah! I can write again!

The prompt I am using for this piece is Day 1: Winter Weather.

Word Count: 1,662

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Mentions of loss of child, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, light angst, one mild curse word, kissing/makeout session, a few suggestive comments (but nothing explicit/nsfw). If any of this triggers you please do not read! I don’t want to hurt anyone!

Placing the story below a cut, there is a second part, so I may update this post/link it at another time! Enjoy!

Selfship Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed 😊):

@snailchans-imaginarium @crunch-crunch-eat-a-bunch @changingcore @bitchywitchheart @stoatsapphic @3qu1us-main @kittycatkissez @benreillyswife @creativegenius22 @genderqueer-bithing @serenitytodd1234 @mailiow @celestetheseaunicorn

POV: This takes place during the Under Frozen Pond Episode, so here are some Zach screenshots from said episode 🥰!

The cold weather of the winter season enveloped me as I lay in the snow. I wore my husband’s scarf and trench coat, my own gray gloves, and a lilac hat that once belonged to my mother. I looked up to the bright blue sky, and breathed deeply, closing my eyes as I exhaled.

I’d run away from Zach after we’d had an argument about my recent health concerns. Zach was bound and determined to keep me confined to the plane until we returned to the city for me to see my doctor, but I was tired of being cooped up all day.

To be fair he’d gotten his way most days for nearly two weeks because I’d been too sick to even leave our bedroom, but today I’d felt well enough to join him while he surveyed the location for the Annual Villain’s Meeting.

As Zach was wrapping his former winter coat and scarf around me my hopes of breaking free from my confinement to enjoy the cold weather were crushed when I’d gotten sick to my stomach yet again. I narrowly avoided becoming sick all over his shiny winter boots, and Zach grimaced and gagged for a few minutes until my sick spell subsided. He composed himself after I’d come up for air from the trash can he’d ordered Tan to bring to me while Cro cleaned up the mess.

Zach pulled a box of mints out of his pocket and emptied a few in my palm, something he’d started doing nearly two weeks before when I’d first started getting sick, “We’re going to have to get you to the doctor, Vi, you should’ve been over the virus by now, I was over it after a day….this isn’t normal.”

“I know,” I whispered, itching to tell him my suspicions, but I just couldn’t face it, not yet, not after what had happened in July.

I opened my eyes, looking to the sky again, wondering if she was looking down on me with those green eyes so like her father’s, the red hair like her grandmother’s, and my face with the freckles Zach and I both had during childhood.

If she was here things would’ve been very different…but I knew it was best not to dwell on that, it would just depress me again. I tried to focus on the positive: she was now our guardian angel. And if what I suspected was happening, I knew we needed her protection now more than ever.

Zach’s shrill voice met my ears as he called out my name. I lifted my head up far enough to see him slipping and sliding his way toward me over the ice. I laughed and sat up, not wanting to miss the opportunity to see him fall flat on his ass. It reminded me so much of when we’d gone skating the first time a couple years before. I’d never skated in my life and Zach had very little experience himself so it was quite a comical sight.

While he wobbled his way toward me, his curses becoming louder by the second, I thought how much I’d like to go skating with him right then, but I knew with what was happening to me that it probably was not the safest option.

Zach finally reached me, and I flopped back down on the snow, exhausted from my uncontrollable laughter. Zach loomed over me, his legs spread so that my legs were between his, if I’d reached up and pulled him down it would have been a very compromising position.

Zach didn’t seem to notice because he was so absorbed in his own anger, he planted his hands on his hips and took the opportunity to yell at me, “what’s so funny?”

“You trying to walk on the ice, you’re as graceful as a hippopotamus,” I laughed, trying to catch my breath and wiping tears from my eyes.

“I am far more graceful than a hippo platter mouth or whatever,” he hissed, not amused by my comments. Zach turned away and walked in the direction of the plane motioning for me to follow him, “come on and get up, it’s freezing out here…”

I sat up with the full intention of following him, but a wave of nausea stopped me in my tracks. I slowly lowered my head back to the ground taking calming breaths, Zach had turned back to yell at me, “VIO…Vi?”

“I need a minute,” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hand.

Zach crunched his way back over to me through the snow and sat down beside me, his brows knitted in concern, “are you okay?”

I shook my head and he took my free hand in his, wrapping our gloved fingers tightly together, he laid down on his back beside me and we held hands, looking at each other silently until I was able to speak again.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, smiling weakly at him.

Zach lifted his head, and pulled his hand free of mine, “no you’re not, we have to get you to the doctor and find out what’s going on, Violet…I’ll call Donita and Gourmand and we’ll reschedule….”

“No, Zach…” I whined, I covered my face with my hands to hide the tears that threatened to escape, “I’m fine…I’m just sick is all, it’s because, well…Zach…I think we’re pre…”

I pulled my hands away and looked at his face, etched with confusion and curiosity, I couldn’t tell him here, not yet…I had to be sure…so I quickly changed the conversation, “do you remember when we first went ice skating a couple years ago?”

Zach’s face went slack for a minute, and his eyes widened, he lowered his head to the snow again, staring at the sky in confusion before he looked back at me, “uhhh, yeah?”

I quickly covered my near omission, “I think we’re perfectly happy like we were then…yes we’ve had sickness come our way, but we’re not going to let that stop us from being happy and doing what we need to do, right? We’ll just get up and try again after falling down, we can’t let this sickness stop us from enjoying our day…”

Zach’s face contorted with bewilderment again, “so…uhhh, you wanna go skating?”

I giggled, pulling his gloved hand into mine and kissing the top of his hand, “No, that’s not what I meant…even if I wanted to I can’t, but no, no, no…Zach, that’s not my point, my point is, we can’t let me being sick ruin our day, I’m just a little sick that’s all, after today I’ll get a doctors appointment, and we’ll take it from there…one step at a time.”

Zach, nodded his head slowly, still looking unsettled by our situation and conversation, “okay…then….”

I released his hand and grinned, waving my arms around me in the snow, “that’s settled!”

Zach snickered, “are you making a snow angel?”

I stopped moving my arms and glanced to either side of me, I hadn’t done it intentionally, but I indeed had a pair of snow angel wings started, “I guess so…wanna join me?”

“Join you?” Zach scoffed, moving to stand up, he rolled his eyes, “it’s childish, frivolous…”

I resumed waving my arms and moving my legs to complete the angel, “it’s fun…one of my favorite cold weather activities…”

Zach huffed and grabbed my hand, plopping into the snow beside me, he reluctantly started making his own snow angel, “this is humiliating…if Donita and Gourmand see us…”

“They’ll think it’s cute,” I giggled, and I sat up long enough to give him a peck on the cheek.

I peered out of the corner of my eyes and snickered as a blush crept across his pale features that were already tinted red from the cold, “oh no you don’t,” he hissed, moving from beside me to straddling me within seconds.

I could not stop giggling as Zach’s flustered face hovered inches from mine, his hands on either side of my head, “think you can just tease me and get away with it, do ya?”

“N-no!” I gasped between laughs, Zach smirked and closed the space between us, kissing me. My giggles subsided as he deepened the kiss, I reached my hands up and grasped either side of his face, pulling his face closer to me, earning a moan from him, “minx,” he mumbled against my lips. He then trailed his lips across mine and from my nose to my chin. He gave me one quick kiss on my nose and sighed. I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He whispered, a grin spreading across his face, he shook his head and stood up, “come on, let’s get you back to the plane, laying in this cold weather can’t be good for you.”

I relented and sat up, I held my hands to him and he helped me to my feet, I bounced slightly as I stood up, earning a laugh from Zach, “always enthusiastic…”

Zach released my hands and offered his arm to me, I giggled and wrapped my arms around his bicep, “such a gentleman,” I teased.

He smirked, “I try.”

We started walking back to the plane, and I abruptly stopped. I untangled myself from Zach’s arm and walked back to our snow angels, Zach called out, “what’s wrong?”

I stood in front of the snow angels and whispered a quiet prayer, “please protect this one,” I placed my hands into the middle of my snow angel, fanned out to look somewhat like a butterfly, I felt a tear trickling from my eye, and I brushed it away.

I quickly rejoined Zach who’d raised an eyebrow at me, “was that for Alexandria?”

“Maybe,” I whispered, biting my lip, Zach continued giving me an awkward stare, but he wrapped his arm around my waist, resting his hand on my stomach, unknowingly answering his own question with the simple yet touching gesture.

[wishingicouldfly]

Author Interview: Featuring @ShimmeringEvil

Rosann’s Writing Room with Nadia (@shimmeringevil)

October 2024

This month I’m featuring Nadia - who dropped a really amazing historically bent A/B/O (siren calls me home) this summer to great acclaim. 

I’ve done regular interviews of Larry fic authors for a couple of years for No Stunts Magazine. if you’re interested in reading more, I keep a list on my pinned page here: (2) Archive of Fic Author Interviews – @wishingicouldfly on Tumblr

If you like this feature, want to chat, or give me suggestions for future profiles, please hit me up on X. @Rosann_1986.

Handle: @shimmeringevil

Pronouns: they/them

Works: Play By the Rules, Siren Calls me Home, Your Memory over Me, and more.

Rosann: Thank you so much for being part of my author interview series! What do you like people to call you?

Nadia: Nadia is fine :)

Rosann: How did you decide to get started writing fanfic for the 1D/Larry fandom? How long did you write before you published for the fandom?

Nadia: I was an avid fic reader for about a year before I ever considered writing. I remember doing a search to find fics with very specific tags and not finding anything that fit the criteria (I later found out that there were fics with said tropes and I was just terrible at searching, but the idea to write was already in my head by then). 

It was a bit daunting for me to get started because I’d actually never written anything outside of school papers before. There were many aspects of writing that were a lot more difficult than I expected, and some aspects that were much easier! I never thought writing something novel-length was in my realm of abilities but here we are :)

Rosann: That’s amazing! You’re a natural! I don’t want you to out your anonymity, but can you tell us if you’ve written under other names, or if you’re perhaps traditionally published? Are you professionally trained?

Nadia: No, this has been my first foray into publicly posting my writing in any way! I’m not professionally trained in the slightest, and I think one of my favorite aspects of fic is that it’s not necessary. I love how people of all ages, all levels of experience, and even different levels of comfort with the languages they write in can post work as they please. Some of my favorite stories have come from people who fall into the former categories, which isn’t something you typically see in traditionally published writing. So no, not traditionally published, but I’m very happy where I am.

Rosann: You’ve hit on my favorite thing about fics as well. What’s your favorite trope (if any) to write?

Nadia: I love any trope with angst and conflict, especially when it’s borne from character flaws. Betrayal, bitter breakups and the like - I think it’s a great exercise for me in emotional processing, and I love the complexity of imperfections. I enjoy exploring what it takes for someone to do a bad thing but still be a good person at the end of the day. It’s also important for me to write characters who are flawed but still worthy of love. To make mistakes is to be human, and I think in today’s day and age there’s too much pressure on this unachievable idea of perfection. I think that my work explores those situations where not everything is sunshine and rainbows all the time.

Rosann: I love that nuance. I really love how you explored that in your most recent fic. How do you handle writer's block (if you experience it).

Nadia: The best thing for me to do when I find myself staring at a blank page for days  has been to take breaks from both writing and the fandom. I just completely put writing out of my mind (at least consciously) for days, and it’s so much easier once I get back to my story. I think whether writer’s block is caused by anxiety, overthinking, mental fatigue, or just a lack of being able to get the story to flow the way you want to, taking care of yourself is a really underrated solution.

I also think visually mapping out your story, working through plots with a friend, or listening to music that gets you in the mood for your story can help a lot when you’re stuck!

Rosann: Great advice on writer's block. Your most recent fic (Siren Calls me Home) was a serialized fic (one that you dropped in regular installments), do you plot/outline before you write or do you just fly by the seat of your pants?

Nadia I’ve historically flown by the seat of my pants and I do not recommend it! I recently did this for Siren Calls Me Home  and my friends had to be subject to my panic, confusion, and breakdowns about it every few days. For weeks I had no idea where the plot was going or how to make all the loose ends I created tie up neatly, and I just ended up using the pressure of weekly updates to try to produce something. I’m trying to be more organized and do pre-planning now, and I think it’s improving the quality of my stories.

Rosann: Well, you did a great job - it came out really well! I’ve noticed that a lot of writers include people from the boys’ real lives/situations. What are your thoughts for including personal things like that or not?

Nadia: I generally prefer writing OCs to including people from the boys’ real lives, for a multitude of reasons. And I’ve been having a lot of fun with this, because creating original characters is a really interesting exercise. It feels less limiting, and I really enjoy creating characters that are completely mine. There’s full control over their appearance, name, background, and personality which opens up a lot of possibilities. I’ve seen the fandom move more towards using OCs rather than celebrities or other people from the boys’ lives as a whole, so I think a lot of writers might agree with me on this.

Rosann: What are the hardest scenes/tropes for you to write?

Nadia: I have so much trouble writing smut! It’s funny because I’ve always written stories where smut has been very prevalent or a driver of the plot, but I can’t stand writing it. I think it’s one of those aspects of stories that can be difficult to get “right” - is it realistic? Is it cringy? Is it easy to picture? Do the positions make sense? Am I describing too many physical actions without actually adding anything to the story? Do their characterizations stay consistent during the scene? There are so many questions that run through my head and it’s hard for me to know if it’s hitting correctly. Especially since smut can sometimes get a lot more depth in the description of the actions than most other things in fic.

Rosann: Smut can be so nuanced! Lately there has been some discussion on stan Twitter about what authors of fanfic “must” do (for example, provide trigger warnings). What do you think a writer has responsibility for to their readers? Conversely, do you think readers have any responsibility to writers (for example, leaving kudos or comments)?

Nadia: I think fanfic is heavily reliant on community, and it’s important to look after one another in a community. Tagging a fic properly feels like an important part of this in order to give readers the tools to make a decision on whether or not a fic is safe for them. Beyond that, I disagree with most discourse around what fic writers should or shouldn’t write about. This is a creative space, and I can personally not be a fan of a fic or a trope without thinking that it shouldn’t be written. 

Similarly, in the interest of community, I think readers should keep public comments about fics positive. It should be done for the sake of it being the right thing to do, but I don’t think everyone realizes that all fic suffers from hateful behavior, not just the specific tropes that get targeted. Writers are reluctant to share works in a hostile environment. Keeping things positive helps writers flourish.

As far as kudos and comments go, I don’t think readers have to do anything. I do think they should be aware that they are consuming work that is given for free, and that most writers are working off of praise and encouragement for motivation. So with that in mind, I would highly encourage readers to interact with works they enjoy in some way.

In essence, I think the fic space survives and thrives as long as we look after one another, so that’s what we should be doing :)

Rosann: Such an important point. I definitely agree. Thanks so much for answering my questions, Nadia! I look forward to more of your work!

Please go follow Nadia on X (@shimmeringevil) and read their work on AO3 here  magazine, here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimmeringevil/pseuds/shimmeringevil

[hawksredrobe]

HI OH MY GOD im so so so obsessed with your House MD fics on ao3, I literally can’t put it into words. every day, I reload ao3 looking for House fics, specifically Hilson. YOU LITERALLY CAPTURE THEM PERFECTLY!!! I read Mr. Magic Hands when it first was posted, then have reread it over and over and over again. I just read A Delightful Foray Into Repressed Sadism and like—can we PLEASE talk about Wilson being a sadist???? And you’re SO right- House isn’t a sadist or a masochist, but so desperate to please others (mainly Wilson) and find out all of the secret details. There’s a part of the story that I wanted to highlight.

“You delight in provoking me because you know it’s going to get you this. You want my pain. You think you deserve it.”

THIS IS LITERALLY SO?!?!!?!? oh my god. Not only is hilson smut so <3, but it also is INCREDIBLE from Wilson bc he’s right—I think House does provoke Wilson because he wants to see how far he can go. He wants that “punishment” of sorts, but he also wants to pushpushpush until he can’t anymore. (Also, House is literally a such a bratty bottom and I’m so grateful to see someone finally agree.)

And it’s not just the smut!!! You capture them so well even in fluffy writing!!! House is absolutely the type to start with pet names ironically, but then realize that he’s sickeningly obsessed. I’ve always had the thought of him calling Wilson ‘doll’, but ‘honey’ works just as well. I’m obsessed with it. Because, well, OBVIOUSLY a it’s a joke guys…. and then House is saying it and thinking it when no one is there to see it as a joke. And the last line of Honey drives me utterly insane (in the best way!!!) because Wilson calling House ‘baby’ is EVERYTHING IVE EVER NEEDED PLEASE it’s just sosososo good and I’m so grateful for you and your writing. I’m so hyperfixated on House MD, it’s lowkey so bad, but your stories genuinely help fuel my excitement about the series!!! Sending so much good energy your way bc you’re literally one of my fav people on the Internet right now :’)

-

AWWWW thank you so much??? this is such an incredibly sweet ask??? thank you for taking the time to write this oh my god this was such an unexpected but lovely surprise

you are so right that house is a bratty bottom

house saying in the show "i dont want to push this till it breaks" can coexist with him saying "i know i can say anytihng to him and he'll never leave" and translates into him pushing at wilson's repressed kinks until he gets. exactly what u saw

i am writing the part 2 of wilson calling house baby as we speak :) god thank you. i am going to come back to this ask over and over because of how lovely and sweet it is, it's reasons like this that i want to post fanfic in the first place

[suffersinfandom]

I was going to make some embarrassing, fluffy New Year post about how grateful I am for OFMD and this fandom and how cool it is to be here and participating for the first time ever (I mean, I made some goofy meme edits for BSG and Star Wars, but I sure as heck wasn’t brave enough to share actual thoughts). I was going to type about how awesome and smart and funny so many of the people I follow here are and how much I love all of the meta and art and fanfic, and I was going to go on about how important OFMD is to me and how much it’s brightened up my life.

But then I logged on and remembered how flawed this fandom is, too. It makes me sad to see all of the insults and personal attacks in a fandom that is -- or at least claims to be -- more queer and more accepting and more invested in kindness and goodness than any other I’ve come across. 

There’s the block button, I know (believe me, I use it every time I come across someone who goes on about how abusive Ed is because I absolutely won’t entertain that), but the hostility runs deep and blocking alone isn’t fixing anything. People act like the mere existence of interpretations that contradict their own are direct attacks on their character, and they retaliate by calling people idiots with zero reading comprehension and abuse apologists and cruel sadists who wouldn’t know suffering if it bit them on the dick and so on. It’s not enough to disagree; we have to tear people down and insult them and make everyone angrier by showing our followers strawman arguments being tossed around by ~the other side~. 

Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely abhorrent takes that demonstrate, at best, ignorance on the part of the person making it. We should call those out! 

Idk, I just wish we could have discussions and disagreements without attacking actual human people. Like, I love it when people engage with things they don’t agree with in good faith and pick apart arguments and make new points. I even love passive-aggressive indirect responses to bad takes. Those can be very fun and, tbh, it’s not a fandom without a little pettiness, as a treat.

But it sucks to scroll around and see people in your fandom throwing out very personal insults and attacking others for interpreting things differently or thinking a fake guy is a piece of shit, y’know? I want better for us. We deserve better. 

Also, just to be clear, this isn’t in response to anything specific, okay? I was just generally set off when I scrolled through the OFMD tag today and saw yet another “well, if you don’t see things the way I do, you’re a stupid piece of shit who loves abuse” post from someone I hadn’t gotten around to blocking yet. Not to get personal, but as someone who was regularly called an abusive, stupid piece of shit by someone who was genuinely abusing me when I had the nerve to challenge them, that kind of thing can be legit triggering if it hits at the wrong time.

Also also: I do feel all of those things that I mentioned in the first paragraph! I’m so grateful for OFMD and the fans of it! There are so many brilliant and talented people around here, and I know I wouldn’t be as bummed about the unsavory parts of OFMD fandom if I didn’t love it so much as a whole. 

[peanut-tyrug]

DS Fanfic: Rise of the Triumphant

Even after his time on the Nightmare Throne, the shadows in Wes’ heart seem to still be lurking within his soul…

—

TRIGGER WARNING - This fic contains a split personality, possession, call backs to trauma, characters in terrible mental states, mentions of torture, and claustrophobia. If you aren’t comfortable with these things, please don’t read this.

—

Also hey @chonylolu there’s some Weswolffrid in here, if you’re alright with reading it :)

Wes jolts awake.

He quickly breathes and lifts his upper body up. He looks around.

A checkered floor. A floor pattern similar to that of a chess board. A few torches ahead of him lighting a path ahead.

Is this Maxwell’s throne room? It’s oddly desolate and messy, considering how pompous and uptight Maxwell was.

Finally. A chance to meet his tormentor. He isn’t really looking for revenge though, Wes isn’t that type of person.

He just wants to ask 'Why? Why must you be this way?'. Wes wants to try and help this man become a better person. That’s all he wants.

No more fighting for survival. No more playing with Wes like he’s a pawn. He just wants improvement. He wants to see Maxwell change for the better. He wants to help in any way he can.

Wes slowly gets up and steps forward. As he walks further away from the torches, they go out behind him, and newly appeared torches light up.

—

Wes continues to walk forward, paying no mind to any of the random items laying about the checkered floor, eyes firmly on whatever lays ahead of him.

As he moves deeper inside the throne room, he hears something.

…Music?

It sounds like ragtime music, oddly enough.

Wes believes the Nightmare King’s throne is nearby. He follows the music.

The further he goes, the louder it gets.

—

A few torches light the path ahead of him. The music sounds closer than it ever had before.

Wes then finally approaches his desired destination.

Although, it’s not as grand as he thought it would be.

Maxwell is sitting upon a dark and angular throne and is dressed in a ragged robe. Dark tendrils are tied to his wrists and ankles. His fingers long and spindly like claws. His expression reflects a depressing feeling right back to Wes.

Although Maxwell had been torturing Wes for lord knows how long, he couldn’t help but feel bad for him. His heart aches with the desire to help him.

“…I’m surprised to see you here… forgive me if I don’t get up…” Says Maxwell, his tone surprisingly saddened.

How can a man who acted so pompous and all-powerful…

…Be so powerless?

Wes stares on at the frail man as he begins to monologue.

“…You’ve been an interesting plaything. But I’ve grown tired of this game… or maybe They’ve grown tired of me…”

…They…? Whose They?

“…Heh. Took Them long enough… They’ll show you terrible, beautiful things. It’s best not to fight it… there wasn’t much here when I showed up. Just dust. And the Void… and Them… I’ve learned so much since then, I built so much… but even a king is bound to the board. You can’t change the rules of the game.”

Wes’ brows furrow and the guilt in his heart grows… How long has he been toiling with this “Them”?

…Were he and Maxwell just part of some… game?

“I don’t know what They want. They… They just watch… unless you get too close… then…”

…Then what…?

“…Well, there’s a reason I stay so dapper… what year is it out there? Time moves differently here.”

Last Wes had known… late 1906. Before Wes could answer though, Maxwell continues.

“Go on, stay awhile. Keep us company. Or put the key in the box. It’s your decision. Either way, you’re just delaying the inevitable… Reality is like that sometimes… I think I’ve said enough…”

Maxwell then stops and goes dead silent. Some of the only noise being from a gramophone playing ragtime music next to the throne.

Wes then realizes what key what Maxwell was talking about.

The Divining Rod.

He takes out the Divining Rod out of his inventory and holds onto it. He looks to the right of the throne, looking for the box Maxwell was talking about, and spots a hole, one similar to the previous holes he had placed the key in. It would fit snuggly in the keyhole.

Wes walks over to the keyhole and looms over it. He looks at the hole, and then to Maxwell.

Would he free Maxwell? Or would he let him stay on the throne?

And let him continue to play this game with whoever this “Them” was.

Wes felt awful for Maxwell. He looked so disheveled and internally dead. He looked emotionless. Wes couldn’t help but wince at Maxwell’s pain.

He can’t let this man rot away on this throne. He can’t help but let his guilt get the better of him. His soul is too kind to let a man, no matter what they’ve done, suffer endlessly.

Wes shoves the Divining Rod into the keyhole.

Nothing happens for a bit.

Until the throne begins to recede into the ground.

Maxwell is broken free from the throne’s chains. He smiles brightly. Wes smiles back.

This moment of happiness is quickly replaced with dread.

Maxwell suddenly winces and falls to his knees. He screams. He screams a blood curdling scream.

His skin then turns to dust, revealing his bones. His skeleton falls apart and also turns to dust.

Maxwell’s scream echos through the throne room.

Wes looks on with terror in his eyes and mouth agape. He wants to run away.

Before he can run however, shadow hands quickly encompass Wes and drag him into the ground. Wes reappears, now sitting Maxwell’s throne. The same tendrils over Wes’ wrists and ankles. He darts his head around in terror. All while ragtime music plays from the gramophone.

Wes tries to break his wrists free, but the tendrils don’t break, no matter how hard he pulls. After a bit, he gives up on trying to escape.

Memories of his old prison begin returning. Wes can’t help but silently weep.

…Better him than Maxwell right…?

—

Wes doesn’t know how long it’s been. He doesn’t exactly care anymore.

He tries to sleep, but the sound of ominous whispers fills his head. They keep him awake. They constantly beckon him.

Beckon him to join the shadows.

LET US IN.

LET US IN.

LET US IN.

Wes then remembers.

'It’s best not to fight it.'

Wes is tired. He’s not in a good mental state either. The whispers aren’t helping at all.

The whispers call to him. Tell him to hurt other people. People he doesn’t even know. Capture more people. Create more ferocious beasts. More ways to hurt people.

He doesn’t care about what Maxwell said.

He is not hurting anybody.

And he is sticking to that.

—

He’s tired. Mentally tired. The whispers are relentless.

They continue to beckon him. They’re even louder than what they were before.

Wes wants to slip away into the shadows.

But he can’t.

He won’t.

Or so he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to hurt anybody. It’s the exact opposite of what he had wanted to do since being able to live life on his own.

He wanted to bring joy to others. Make their day better. Make their life better. Not torture them, or find ways to do so. Everything the shadows wanted… whatever They wanted… was entirely against what Wes was about.

Maxwell’s words rang in Wes’ ears.

'It’s best not to fight it.'

…Maybe it is best not to fight it…

No. Never.

I’m tired…

No.

…I don’t want to fight anymore...

Wes is arguing with himself. He can’t bring himself to bring harm onto others… but…

…I can’t fight forever…

…C'est la vie, right…?

He’s not thinking straight anymore.

He sinks.

Sinks deep into the shadows.

He can feel his consciousness slip away…

Shadows begin to circle around the poor mime. They encompass his limbs and body. His clothes change from normal mime attire to a tight and slick black long sleeved shirt and light brown pants held up by a belt. His shoes become pointed and gain little heels. His gloves become a light shade of brown. At his neck, a crimson red ascot appears. Over his eyes, a small pair of deep black shades appear.

Wes begins to regain consciousness.

He pauses…

…Then a large and sharp toothy grin grows on his face.

—

It’s been awhile. Awhile since Wes had committed to the shadows. He sits on the Nightmare Throne with his legs crossed. A smug and sly expression sits on his face.

He looks around. The throne room is as desolate as it was since he had first arrived there.

And saw Maxwell.

Wes recoils at the thought of that man.

Later…

He’ll help him learn a lesson or two…

Wes realizes how empty the place feels. He wonders how he can help fill the area with more flare.

Balloon animals?

A thought deep within his head speaks. Wes questions the idea.

He unconsciously reaches into his pocket and grabs a balloon. He blows it up. He begins to make a butterfly out of it.

Wes looks at the balloon.

He cant help but silently giggle.

He immediately recoils. He tries to suppress the feeling. He pops the balloon. He crosses his legs again and pouts.

He doesn’t have the ability to change how the room looks. He can’t get up either.

He sits there, still pouting.

—

Wes sits on the throne, bored out of his mind. What could he possibly do to entertain himself?

Like a lightbulb turning on in his head, he gets an idea.

He puts his hand out in front of his face, palm open. A small portal appears in his hand. A little eye to see the world below him.

The portal opens up, and Wes sees a familiar face.

A face no person could ever forget.

Maxwell.

Wes can’t help but sneer at the sight of him. Oh, how terribly sick that man was. Absolutely no remorse for what he had done to Wes, at least to him.

Revenge clouds Wes’ mind. A desire to put this man through an endless hell even worse than what Wes had gone through. Worse than whatever Wes had gone through in his entire life.

He wanted to make Maxwell’s life a living Hell.

Wes smiles maliciously and lifts his free hand up, shadow emanating from it.

No! Don’t!

A thought deep within him shouts.

Wes pauses. His smirk fades, so do the shadows coming from his hand. Who was this voice? It was soft and gentle.

…Was it his own inner voice? His own thoughts?

…The thoughts of the person he used to be…?

Wes silently scoffs. He tries to push the thoughts down.

But it seems incredibly relentless.

Don’t hurt him! Please!

After all he had done? Why? Why show mercy to someone such as Maxwell? The very man who played with you like a toy to be thrown around and broken. Like some kind of pawn.

Why?

Have a heart.

Wes pushes the thought down. His smirk returns and the shadows return to his palm. He watches Maxwell as he quickly runs from a small herd of hounds.

Internally, Wes can only cringe at the sight.

—

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he’s been enjoying himself.

Adding new creatures. New items. New tools. Finding ways to entertain himself while he sits alone in this desolate room. Wes sits with his legs crossed, smiling smugly.

This moment of bliss is suddenly disturbed as footsteps can be heard.

Wes’ smile fades and looks toward the source of the sound.

The silhouetted figure slowly approaches, Divining Rod in hand.

The figure is of a woman wearing a battle helm. Her bright red hair has been put up in braids. She is dressed in the attire of that of a Valkyrie.

“Art thöu the dreaded föe of my saga? The ruler öf this accursed land?” She speaks.

Wes raises a brow. 'You think I’m not?' He thinks to himself.

The Valkyrie sneers. “Why wöuld I free thee? För thöu hath wröught nöthing but dispair.”

Wes cringes at the Valkyrie’s language. Can you not speak In Shakespearean?

As Wes thinks about the Valkyrie’s way of speech… something seeps back into mind.

Wes’ previous feelings on the Valkyrie suddenly disappear and he leans forward. He smacks his hands together in a begging gesture. His expression shows great distress.

A desire to be set free.

Free me, please! I beg of you! I can’t continue to hurt people anymore.

Although the Valkyrie can’t hear Wes’ thoughts, he prays that she’ll be able to understand him.

“'Tis a trick!” The Valkyrie shouts. “Deceitful scum!”

Wes continues to plea.

The Valkyrie searches attempts to search through Wes’ eyes for any sign of genuine feeling.

But his shades blot out the light.

He quickly takes his shades off, revealing his eyes. His genuine eyes. Eyes that scream a genuine desire to be free from this prison. From this hellhole.

From Them.

The Valkyrie looks into Wes’ eyes.

She can sense the feeling in them. He can feel it.

“…Yöur söul be split, I see…” Says the Valkyrie. “…Art thöu being truthful?”

Wes firmly nods.

“…This isn’t whö yöu truly be?”

Wes nods again.

He can sense a feeling of guilt in her eyes.

…Along with a feeling of resonance…

She walks up to the keyhole and jams the Divining Rod inside it.

Wes’ shackles break.

But once they do, he can feel his consciousness slip away…

…

Wes suddenly awakens.

He quickly lifts himself up and looks around.

Trees and flowers are littered around the area. The chirping of birds can be heard.

Wes looks down at himself. He realizes he’s back in his normal mime attire.

He can’t hear any whispers either.

No other voice.

He feels relieved, yet guilty.

All of the people he hurt likely hate him now.

He hopes that woman is okay.

~~~

It’s been a long while since Wes had been surviving alone. He, along with many others, have banded together into one big camp. They had all begun bonding as a family.

On a particular day, he and a few Survivors had been sent out on a trip to the caves.

Where things quickly turned for the worst.

—

Wes, Wigfrid, and Wolfgang, each where miner’s hats, tread through an uncharted area in the caves, looking for any resources that could be of use to the Survivors.

“Tread lightly.” Says Wigfrid. “Whö knows what lay in the shadöws.”

“Is creepy here.” Says Wolfgang, quivering a bit.

“Be cöuragöus, dearest ströngman! Thöu shall prevail as löng as thöu stays vigilant!” Says Wigfrid.

Wes, who is next to Wolfgang, pats his shoulder.

Wolfgang looks over to Wes and smiles. “Thank you, clownman.”

Wes smiles and nods.

Suddenly, rumbling can be heard.

“Cease!” Says Wigfrid. The three of them stop in their tracks. Wigfrid looks up at the caves roof.

The stalactites that hang on the cave’s roof appear to be shaking, threatening to fall down.

And cause a cave in.

“'Tis a cave in!” Wigfrid shouts.

Wes runs to Wigfrid’s side a shushes her. Just as he does, a stalactite falls from the roof.

Before Wes and Wigfrid can get hit, Wolfgang pushes them out of harms way and directly onto the floor.

The three of them quickly get up. “Föllöw mine tracks! This way!” Wigfrid yells.

Wolfgang and Wes Follow behind Wigfrid, barely avoiding the falling rocks.

As the three run, Wes trips on a stone, causing him to fall forward. The other two performers reach the area’s exit, and see Wes having lagged behind.

Before anyone can do anything though—

CRASH!!

A pile of rocks falls in front of the opening.

Wes is trapped, and has been separated from the others.

He quickly gets up and runs to the pile. He bangs his fists against it, but nothing changes. He can hear Wolfgang trying to punch the wall, but to no avail.

“We will be back, clownman!” Says Wolfgang.

“Be ströng for us!” Says Wigfrid.

Wes can hear their quick footsteps rapidly becoming more faint. They’re going to get help.

All Wes can do is pray they’ll be back soon.

He leans against the pile of rocks and tries to relax while he waits for his friends to return.

Just as he starts to feel relaxed, more rumbling can be heard.

Wes looks down to see the floor cracking.

An earthquake.

Wes’s eyes widen with shock, he doesn’t know what to do. He gets up and scurries around, but with absolutely no idea on what to do.

Before he can do anything else, he feels himself falling down.

He braces himself as he falls.

—

Wes suddenly wakes up. His miner’s hat nearby him. His body hurt. He had likely fallen very hard. It’s difficult to get up. He lifts his upper body up and looks around.

More cave walls, similar to the ones in other parts of the caves. It’s fairly dark as well.

Wes slowly tries to get up. He stumbles, and his legs hurt. He tries to walk. It’s not a terrible feeling, but it’s difficult. He picks up his miner’s hat and puts it back on.

Wes quietly lurks around, not exactly sure where of where to go.

In the distance, he spots a large… purple cap mushroom?

It wasn’t exactly a peculiar thing to see. Mushroom-like trees were everywhere in the caves, but this wasn’t that. It was wider than a normal mushtree. It’s color not matching either.

Wes looks upon the peculiar site. Maybe the shroom could drop some helpful resources for the others? It would be nice of him to collect something for the camp’s benefit.

Wes stumbles up to the mushroom and takes out an axe he had brought with him.

He begins to hit the mushroom with the weapon.

After a few hits, however…

A large frog-like creature booms from the ground.

Wes is knocked back. He falls to his back and stares in terror at the creature before him.

The same purple cap mushroom is on the creature’s head, along with a few similarly colored and smaller mushrooms around it. It’s skin was forest green, that of a frog’s. But no creature with a counterpart from Earth looks normal in the Constant. The creature had three eyes and large sharp teeth that snarled at the poor mime.

Wes cowers and scoots back. The creature keeps it’s snarl as it slowly creeps up to Wes. Wes is backed up against a nearby wall. There is no plausible way he could fight in the condition he was in.

Wes continues to cower in fear. He puts his arms over his face and braces himself for the worst.

Until time seems to suddenly slow.

Wes peeks from his arms to see the creature has paused it’s movement. It’s completely still. Wes sits with his brows furrowed in confusion.

It’s silent.

Until the clacking of heels can be heard.

Wes looks to his side. He silently gasps.

A figure, one that looks oddly similar to Wes, stands above him.

The figure bears Wes’ slim shape, but everything else feels and looks completely different. He wears a red ascot and black shades over his face.

…A look Wes had once grown used to.

“…Hello… it’s been quite some time.”

A voice speaks. Wes assumes it’s his copy, although his mouth isn’t moving.

His thoughts are speaking to him. His mind.

Them.

Wes quivers a bit.

“Awww, you poor thing.” The copy says. “Don’t fret. I am only here to assist.”

'Assist? Assist in what? Making my friends lives a living nightmare?' Wes thinks to himself.

The copy silently scoffs. “I can hear your thoughts, you know.” He says. “I wish to inflict no harm onto you or your companions… I just have a proposition.”

What could he possibly want? Wes tilts his head.

“Why don’t I just seep my way back in?” He asks.

Wes’ eyes widen. He looks angry.

The copy furrows his brows. “Not like that!” He says. “I don’t want full control. I only desire to be of help to you. I can assist you whenever you need it. I have the abilities to do so.” The copy lifts up a hand. Shadows emanate from it. “All I want is to be allowed to intervene when you may need it. It would be nice to have an extra pair of fighting hands.” The copy says slyly.

“What do you say?” The copy puts out a hand.

Wes ponders what his decision would be.

Until he remembers.

Why trust this? Why trust the shadows that lay deep within Wes’ soul? After all they had wrought.

“I get you may not want to make this deal.” The copy begins. “However… you want to be of assistance to your friends, right?”

Wes’ eyes widen a bit.

“As I said, it would be optimal to have another pair of hands to help you out.” The copy says. “I swear by the Queen, I will not seek out full control and I will only be here to assist… now, do we have a deal?”

Wes thinks for a bit.

Maybe the copy did just want to assist.

And he did want to be of assistance to his friends in whatever way he could.

Why else would he swear by the Queen?

After a bit, Wes closes his eyes and turns his head. He puts out his hand.

“…We have a deal then.” He says. He shakes Wes’ hand.

The copy’s form then turns into a form of shadow. It runs up Wes’ arm and into his ears. Wes winces.

His consciousness slips away. His head slumps.

Time begins to speed up again. The creature continues to creep up toward Wes.

Wes then suddenly lifts his hand up. Shadow emanates from it. He lifts his head to reveal a large malicious smirk on his face.

From the left and right of the creature, shadow tendrils appear. The tendrils grab the creature and begin entrapping it in shadow. It’s form is reduced to a pitch black ball. It settles on the ground and forms into a rose.

The shadows coming off of Wes’ hand dissipate. His hand slumps to the ground. Wes’ head slumps again.

After a bit, Wes lifts his head back up and rubs his head. He opens his eyes and looks around. His vision is blurred. His sanity is dropping.

Wes scoots over to a nearby rock. He lays against it and begins to drift off to sleep.

…

“CLOWNMAN!!”

Wes’ eyes shoot open. He sits up. He notices he’s still in the cave, but his vision is back to normal. His head darts upward.

He sees Wolfgang and Wigfrid, along with Wickerbottom and Winona.

“Friends here to pick up!” Says Wolfgang.

“Are you alright, dear!?” Wickerbottom calls out.

Wes gives out a thumbs up. He’s fine. Mostly.

“Hang tight!” Says Winona. “We’ll get ya outta there!”

After a bit, Winona comes down on a rope. Wolfgang is hanging onto it. She rushes to Wes and picks him up. “We’re ready, big guy!” She shouts up to Wolfgang. He pulls the two of them back up. Once they reach the top, Winona carries Wes over to a wall and lays him against it. Wickerbottom walks up and inspects him.

“Are you alright, dear?” She asks again. “Is your sanity in tact?”

Wes slowly nods.

“We found him sleeping down there.” Says Winona. “Whatever sanity he lost should be back.” She then looks to Wes. “You feeling okay? Like physically.”

Wes shakes his head. His body still hurt from the fall. His legs especially.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Says Wickerbottom. She looks back to Wolfgang. “Wolfgang, hold onto Wes on our way back to camp.”

“Will gladly help clownman!” Wolfgang says proudly.

Wickerbottom looks back to Wes. “Let us return to camp and fix yourself up.”

Wolfgang walks up to the injured mime and picks him up bridal style.

Wes begins to nod off in Wolfgang’s arms…

“See? I told you I would only be of assistance.”

A voice inside Wes’ mind speaks. He wakes up. Wolfgang looks down at him. “Is alright, Wes?” He asks. Wes looks up to Wolfgang, he smiles and nods.

Wolfgang smiles. “Ah, good.” He says.

Wes smiles at Wolfgang. He eventually nods off to sleep again.

—

It’s been about a week since Wes had been stuck in that cave. He’s mostly recovered from his injuries and is feeling a lot better. His legs have mostly healed and he’s able to walk. Although it stings a bit when he walks, it’s not as bad as it was before.

Wes sits in his tent, that he, Wigfrid, and Wolfgang share, doodling in his notepad. He’s already washed his makeup off.

He’s just passing the time.

Until Wigfrid pops into his tent. He jumps at her sudden appearance, but he quickly calms down.

“Fair mime!” She says. “Döst thöu wish tö jöin the ströngman and I ön a hunt later? If thöu has götten better physically.”

Wes flips to a new page in his notepad and writes: 'I can walk fine, but it stings a bit. Especially when I run.'

“Ah, I see.” Says Wigfrid. “We can dö the hunt the next sunrise, if yöu are feeling better.”

Wes nods.

The camp quickly begins to darken. Dusk has come.

“Friends!” Wolfgang says, appearing next to Wigfrid. “We must prepare for sleepy times!”

“Ah, thöu is cörrect.” Says Wigfrid. “Wait here, fair mime. We shall return mömentarily.”

Wigfrid and Wolfgang step away from the tent and help the other Survivors clean up the camp for the day. Wes sets his notepad aside and lays down. He waits for his companions to return.

As he waits, he begins to nod off…

“I’m sorry you have to feel this way.”

Wes suddenly awakens, but he stays lying down. He’s glad that this shadow half seems to be feeling sympathy for him.

But he can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss.

He feels bad that he can’t tell his friends about this as well.

“Your friends don’t need to know about any of this. You don’t want your one chance of assistance to go up in smoke, do you?” Asks the shadow half. “We made a deal too. I am not going to break that deal either. I’m not exactly one to do that.”

The shadow half was right. Wes doesn’t want to lose this chance. And although the half wasn’t exactly like Wes… it was still him. Maybe it had gained some of Wes’ kind attributes?

Suddenly, Wigfrid and Wolfgang come back to the tent, ready to sleep for the night. Wes is a bit startled.

“Is alright, Wesley?” Wolfgang asks.

Wes nods, trying to keep himself from getting caught.

He can’t help but cringe at the fact that he lied.

“Best be öff tö sleep now. Lest we be tired för öur hunt tömörröw.” Says Wigfrid. “If Wesley is up för it.” She looks down to face Wes.

Wes nods. He scoots over a bit to let his friends get into their regular sleeping positions. Wolfgang in the center, Wigfrid on the right, Wes on the left.

The three bundle up together and slowly doze off…

“Do not fret. All is well.”

Wes winces a bit at the sudden voice, but keeps his eyes closed.

—

It’s the next morning. The sun has just begun rising. A few Survivors have already woken up. The performer trio though is still asleep in their tent.

After a bit, Wolfgang, now wimpy, wakes up first. He yawns and stretches. He slowly lifts himself up. He then looks over to his fellow performers and shakes them a bit.

“Friends!” Wolfgang whispers. “Is morning time!”

Wigfrid winces a bit as she awakens. “…Has the sun taken it’s rise?” She asks, groggy.

Wes begins waking up as well, a lot more groggy than his companions. He silently yawns and stretches. He rubs his eyes.

“Wolfgang will make friends breakfast.” Says Wolfgang. He gets out of the tent and heads toward the crock pots. As he leaves, Wes and Wigfrid sit up.

“Döst thöu think yöu are ready för öur hunt?” Wigfrid asks again.

Wes looks over to Wigfrid and nods. He believes he’ll be ready if his legs have healed.

Wigfrid nods. “We will see höw yöur legs are döing.” She says. “Cöme with me. We shall wait för the ströngman’s return.”

Wes nods. Wigfrid helps Wes out of the tent. Wes’ legs aren’t stinging anymore. They had healed overnight.

The Valkyrie and mime gaze upon the camp. Wickerbottom and Wilson have already woken up. They both sit in front of the unlit fire pit, having their breakfast.

Wilson and Wickerbottom look over to the two performers as they approach the fire pit.

“Hello, you two!” Says Wilson. “Are you feeling better, Wes?” He asks.

Wes nods as he and Wigfrid perch themselves on a log in front of the fire pit.

“That’s wonderful, dear.” Says Wickerbottom. “I am glad your condition has improved.” She smiles softly.

“Breakfast here!” Shouts Wolfgang from the other side of camp. He approaches with a few dishes of bacon and eggs in his hands.

“Wolfgang!” Wickerbottom harshly whispers, looking to Wolfgang. “Don’t shout! You’ll wake the children!”

“Oh, sorry.” Says Wolfgang. He sits next to his companions. “Breakfast!” He whispers. Wes and Wigfrid take their platters from the strongman.

“I believe Wes is ready för öur hunt!” Wigfrid says quietly.

Although someone seems to hear anyway.

“WHAT KIND OF HUNT DO YOU SPEAK OF?” Says a monotone voice to Wolfgang’s left.

Wolfgang looks to his left to see WX staring at him.

“AH!!” Wolfgang yelps. “Do not scare Wolfgang like that!” He says.

“HA. COWARD.” Says WX, still looking at Wolfgang.

“Wolfgang is no coward!” Says Wolfgang.

“Wolfgang! WX-78!” Wickerbottom harshly whispers. “Quit shouting!”

“Yeah, listen to grams, tin can.” Says another voice from nearby.

It’s Winona. She had been woken up by all the noise. “You too, big guy.” She says, looking over to Wolfgang.

Wolfgang looks over to the handywoman. “Is sorry…” He says apologetically.

WX looks over to Winona. “FOR THE SAKE OF KEEPING MY HUNTING PRIVILEGES… UGH… I AM SORRY.” They say reluctantly. They look back over to Wolfgang. “BACK TO YOU, MEATSACK, WHAT KIND OF HUNT DO YOU SPEAK OF?” They ask.

“'Tis be nöne öf yöur business, autömatön!” Wigfrid says quietly. “This hunt be för me and my cömpaniöns alöne.”

WX can feel Winona peering into the back of their head. “…FINE. KEEP YOUR SECRETS, ODD ONE.” They say. They walk off.

As the performers settle and eat, Wolfgang, now his regular size, turns over to Wes. “Is clownman ready for hunt?” He asks.

Wes turns over to Wolfgang. He smiles and nods.

“Is settled then!” Says Wolfgang quietly.

“We shall prepare for cömbat near dusk.” Says Wigfrid. “Yöu böth have been training with great splendör, but I desire tö see höw yöu fair in the night.”

Wolfgang quivers a bit. “Will be alone!?” He asks, trying to stay quiet.

“Nö, yöu shall be with me tönight.” Says Wigfrid. “I will assist, höwever, I expect thee tö still fend för oneself.”

“…Ah, okay.” Says Wolfgang, relieved.

“Önce we finish öur feast, at near dusk we hunt!” Wigfrid declares, forgetting to keep her voice down.

“Shhhh!!” Wickerbottom buds in.

“…Ah, sincerest apologies, dear Wickerbottom.” Says Wigfrid apologetically.

Wes silently giggles a bit. A part of him is excited for the hunt.

More so than usual.

He can’t exactly pinpoint why.

—

It’s near dusk. Time for the hunt Wigfrid had planned. The performer trio is ready to head out. Their fellow Survivors wish them luck.

“Come back safe!” Says Webber.

“We shall return victöriöus, spider-child.” Says Wigfrid.

“And be careful. Especially you, Wes.” Says Wickerbottom. “I don’t want to see any of you horribly bruised.”

“Will be careful, strong-brain lady— Wolfgang mean Wickerbottom.” Says Wolfgang.

“You’re alright, dear.” Says Wickerbottom. “Safe travels!”

The performers head off away from camp. As they head off, Maxwell keeps a firm eye on Wes.

“…There is an air about you, mime.” Maxwell says to himself. “I can sense it.”

—

The three performers tread with torches in their grasps. Wolfgang and Wes stay close to Wigfrid, who is leading them to where she desires to start their hunt.

“Remember what I taught thee.” Says Wigfrid.

“Wolfgang will try his best!” Says Wolfgang.

Wes nods.

“I’ll be here to assist whenever you need it, by the way.” Says a voice in Wes’ head.

Wes cringes at the voice.

Wolfgang turns back to look at Wes. “Is alright, Wesley?” He asks.

Wes quickly looks up to Wolfgang and nods.

“If say so.” Says Wolfgang.

Wes quietly sighs in relief.

“Ah, here.” Says Wigfrid. “Where we shall begin öut böut.”

The performers look forward to see a few spider dens. Wolfgang quivers.

“Ooh… not again…” Says Wolfgang, referring to the last time the performers had entered spider den territory.

“Ströngman, we talked aböut this!” Says Wigfrid. “Be brave, ströng! Unlöck yöur inner warriör! För us!”

Wolfgang takes a deep breath, gaining a bit of courage. “…Okay… Wolfgang will try. For friends!” He flexes his arms.

“Same göes för yöu, fair mime.” Says Wigfrid, now looking to Wes.

Wes nods confidently.

“Ön my accöunt, we charge.” Says Wigfrid.

The three performers gaze upon the dens ahead.

“Öne… twö…” Wigfrid counts.

The three prepare their weapons, their spears.

“…Three!!” Wigfrid declares.

The three performers charge into the den ridden terrain. The spiders quickly notice their intrusion and prepare to attack. They charge. The three quickly take on their own hoard.

Wolfgang, surprisingly, doesn’t back away. He pushes on for his friends. “For friends!! HRAGH!!” He shoves his spear into a few spiders. They die, and new ones approach. Wolfgang continues to stick them like meat on a kabob.

Wigfrid takes on her own hoard with her own dramatic flare. “TÖ VALHALLA WITH THEE!!” She takes the spiders down row by row as they come.

Wes charges through his hoard. He takes them on as they come, barely scrapping by the spider’s attempts to bite him.

Each of them scramble through the various dens, picking one out and charging through the hoard. It’s a battlefield, as Wigfrid had desired.

It takes awhile, but the hoards are eventually killed off. It goes dead silent. The performers meet up at the center of the empty dens.

“I am very impressed!” Says Wigfrid. “Yöu böth did wönderful! I am very pröud öf yöu böth.” She smiles softly.

“Wolfgang is proud of me too!” Says Wolfgang. He flexes his arms.

Wes stands confidently, proud of he and his teammates.

“We shall rest a bit. Then, önward tö öur next battle!” Says Wigfrid.

The three settle against a tree and take a small breather. After a bit, they head off again.

—

Wigfrid, once again, leads the group toward their next destination.

“Art thöu prepared?” Wigfrid asks her companions. “These böuts will becöme increasingly möre difficult as we gö.”

“Wolfgang ready for anything!” Says Wolfgang confidently, once again flexing his arms.

Wes nods confidently.

“Aha!” Says Wigfrid. “Öur next föes!”

They gaze upon a couple hounds. Wes’ confidence fades away. Whenever it comes to hounds, he’s always targeted first.

Wigfrid looks back to Wes. “We will assist, fair mime.” She says. “We will try öur hardest tö keep yöu fröm getting hurt.”

Wes feels a bit more comfortable. He nods at Wigfrid.

“Just like last time. Ön my accöunt, we charge.”

The men nod.

“Öne… twö… three!!” Wigfrid declares. The three charge forward.

The hounds notice.

They dart after Wes.

Wes quivers a bit.

Just before they approach, Wolfgang and Wigfrid step in front of the mime and begin taking on the hoard. Last minute, Wes darts off to his right to give his friends less to fight. He runs around to let enough hounds go after him and also go after his companions to give them an equal amount to fight.

It takes awhile, but the hounds are all eventually killed of. The performers group up. All of them are tired, but Wes is the most exhausted after having to run back and forth. He’s out of breath.

Wigfrid looks to Wes. “We shall take a lönger test för yöu, fair mime.” She says.

Wes nods. The three of them sit down and take a breather. Wes lies down on his back.

“Just to inform you, I’ve got a plan for this next hunt.” Says a voice in Wes’ head. Wes furrows his brows, wondering what that could mean.

“I’m going to use my powers to assist you. Immediately afterward, I’ll give you your mind back.” The voice says.

…Wes feels a bit distrustful of his shadow half…

“Trust me.” Says the shadow half. “I haven’t broken our deal this entire time, so why would I break it now? Or at all?” Asks the shadow half.

The shadow half was right. It had been ages since they had made that deal, and he had yet to break that deal. So why now would they suddenly change their mind?

…Unless he had been planning to do that…

“Wesley?” Asks Wigfrid.

Wes is shaken from his world of thought. He lifts his head up to see Wigfrid and Wolfgang looking down at him.

“Art thöu ready?” Wigfrid asks.

Wes rises and nods.

“Gööd.” Says Wigfrid. “Cöme alöng, friends! Önwards!”

The three performers head off.

Wes tries to push down his previous thought. Similar to before, a part of Wes is very excited for this next hunt. He still isn’t sure why…

—

The three performers walk ahead, torches in their hands.

“The final böut öf the night is upön us.” Says Wigfrid. Just as she says that, night begins to fall upon them. The three of them quickly take out some lanterns they had brought with them.

“Is what strong-lady Wigfrid meant by fighting in dark?” Wolfgang asks, trembling a bit.

“Yes, dearest ströngman.” Says Wigfrid. “I will cöntinue to ask för yöur best effört. Yöu have döne sö twice already. If thöu can achieve that, then I knöw yöu can dö it again.”

Wolfgang smiles a bit at Wigfrid’s compliment. “Is right! I BELIEVE IN ME!!” Says Wolfgang confidently.

“Shhh! Över yönder!” Says Wigfrid, pointing.

She points to a few isolated beefalo. They aren’t near any herd, so they didn’t have to worry about getting chased by whole ton of hairy cows. The three performers look on at the sight in front of them.

“Hairy cows?” Says Wolfgang quietly. “In dark?”

“Indeed.” Says Wigfrid. “We need nöt wörry. As löng as we have light, we are fine.”

“As soon as you charge, I will step in. Got that?” Says Wes’ shadow half.

Wes nods a tad reluctantly.

“Just like beföre.” Says Wigfrid. “Prepare yöurselves.”

The three prepare to strike the small herd.

“Öne… twö… three!!!” The three performers charge forward.

The beefalos notice the incoming attack. They charge.

Wes prepares for the shadows to seep in…

He can feel his consciousness slip away…

…A toothy grin appears on Wes’ face.

Wes stops charging and faces the herd. He holds out a hand. Shadow emanates from it.

Suddenly, shadow tendrils shoot out of the ground and encompass the beefalos. They wrap around the creatures. Their forms become smaller and smaller until the shadows poof away. From the shadows, four evil flowers appear and land on the ground.

Wigfrid and Wolfgang look back to see Wes still holding his arm up, grinning maliciously. The shadows eventually dissipate and Wes puts his arm down, but the grin stays.

“…I-is Wesley okay?” Wolfgang asks, the sound of genuine concern in his voice.

“…Where did yöu learn that…?” Wigfrid asks concerned, breaking character.

Wes waits to be let back in.

But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, Wes swipes his arm. Shadows emanate in a wave that goes toward his fellow performers. They wince a bit and fall to their knees. Their santies quickly drop.

“…He’s mine now…” Says Wes, without even moving his lips.

Wes, internally, realizes the truth.

His shadow half tricked him.

Lied directly to him.

And he didn’t even bat an eye to any of it.

Just as is shadow half wanted.

The performers lift their heads up. They can hear what Wes is saying in his head.

“…What!?” Wigfrid shouts.

“What did voice do to Wesley!?” Wolfgang asks, fury in his eyes.

Wes lifts up his head. Pitch black shades now cover his eyes. “Oh! You want to see what I can do?” He smirks.

Shadows begin to circle around Wes’ body. His mime attire changes into a slick black shirt with a crimson red ascot over his shoulders and neck. His gloves and pants become a shade of brown. At his waist, a black belt appears. At his feet, his shoes become pointed. His shoes also gain small heels.

Wes stands proudly, yet pompously. “Gaze upon the grand Triumphant!” He says.

The other performers look on in shock. What has become of this friend? They’re uncertain.

Until Wigfrid begins to remember the familiar sight.

On the Nightmare Throne.

That was Wes. Twisted by Them. Just as she had been after freeing Wes from the Throne.

She can’t help but feel terrible for her friend that she and Wolfgang held oh, so dear.

Little did she know that Wolfgang was experiencing the same guilt. He had freed Wigfrid from the Throne, just as Wigfrid freed Wes.

They both feel terrible.

But what could they possibly do to help their friend?

Suddenly, Shadow Duelists appear behind the Triumphant.

The Triumphant looks back and leaps away. He sneers. “…YOU…!”

Maxwell then appears from the shadows, lantern in hand. “I knew something was going on here.” He says.

“You keep away from me, HEATHEN!!” The Triumphant shouts.

While his back is turned, screaming can be heard.

“HRAAAAAAAGH!!” Wolfgang shouts. He prepares to throw a punch.

Before he can take the hit, the Triumphant dodges. He punches Wolfgang square in the stomach. He recoils and falls back.

A Shadow Duelist then approaches from behind. Before it can attack, the Triumphant punches it. It disappears.

“Agh! Try not to get involved, damn you!” Says Maxwell, referring to the performers. “You are going to screw me up!”

“WE KNÖW WHAT WE ARE DÖING, IMBECILE!! HRAAAAAGH!!” Shouts Wigfrid. She charges foward.

As she approaches, the Triumphant throws a hand up. A shadow hand erupts from the ground and grabs onto Wigfrid. It holds her in the air.

“LET WESLEY GÖ, YÖU ACCURSED… FÖUL… DEMÖN!!” Says Wigfrid with great power in her voice.

The Triumphant only chuckles a bit in response. He chucks her over to a nearby tree. She slams into its trunk. Her lantern continues to stay lit. The Triumphant puts his hand down.

The other Shadow Duelist attempts to attack, but, like it’s copy, is punched out of existence.

“Fools… all of you!” Says the Triumphant. He turns back and raises his hand up again, shadows emanate from it. More shadow hands come up and grab onto Maxwell and the other performers. The hands smack together to entrap them all together. The Triumphant slowly walks up to his prisoners, hand still high in the air. A large, sharp toothy grin on his face.

“I should’ve done this ages ago…” He says.

The three inside the entrapment struggle to break free, but to no avail.

Just as the Triumphant is about to clench his hand into a fist…

His free hand grabs onto his risen hand.

He had no intent to move it.

The prisoners watch from above, confused.

Suddenly, the risen hand is pulled down. So are the prisoners. The entrapment breaks apart and Maxwell and the performers are free. The shadows emanating from the once-risen hand dissipate. The clasping hand struggles to keep the other hand down. The Triumphant looks down upon the struggle.

“…Oh… I see. You want to play like that, huh?” Says the Triumphant smugly.

Suddenly, the Triumphant falls to his knees. He looks to be trembling a bit. The other three there watch as Terrorbeak-like spikes protrude from the Triumphant’s back. The sharp teeth inside his mouth become sharper. The tips of his fingers become claws. At the man’s sides, two extra pairs of arms pop out. Sleeves and gloves encompass the arms.

The Triumphant then looks up, his shades still covering his eyes. “…Then we will play like that…” He chuckles maliciously.

He then suddenly charges at his former prisoners. They all quickly dodge.

“…W-what in Hell’s name be that!?” Wigfrid asks in terror.

“…His monster form…” Says Maxwell. “… He has his own monster form…”

“Friend Wes stay that way!?” Wolfgang asks, concerned and afraid.

“…No…” Says Maxwell. “It can be dealt with.”

“Hm…” Wigfrid then gets up. She slowly walks up to her contorted friend. She then flashes the light of her lantern in his face.

The Triumphant quickly dodges and hisses. He runs off.

Wigfrid takes a glance her lantern before looking back at the other. “…The light! The light it be!” She says. “After him!”

Maxwell and Wolfgang cling to their lanterns as they follow Wigfrid in their chase.

—

The Survivors chase down the Triumphant through the nearby woods. He’s very quick on his feet, but his chasers are able to keep up. Wigfrid continues to lead while the others follow behind.

“Get back here, wretch!” Shouts Wigfrid.

“It’ll be ages until we can corner him somewhere.” Says Maxwell.

“Then we keep going!” Says Wolfgang.

Wigfrid and Wolfgang press on. So does Maxwell, although he lags behind.

—

They’ve been running for ages. The chasers are tired, but the Triumphant appears to be unfazed.

Although tired, the three press on.

“This take too long!” Says Wolfgang. “HRAAGH!!”

Wolfgang dashes forward and lunges at the Triumphant. The shadow looks back as Wolfgang smashes into him and continues to run forward.

“Agh! Let go of me!” Says the Triumphant.

“Not until give back Wesley!” Says Wolfgang.

“Oh, you want your Wesley back?” The Triumphant asks. “…Hm… how futile… it won’t matter. He’s already gone.”

“Nöt with an attitude like that, wretch!” Says Wigfrid. “Ströngman! Turn!”

Wolfgang then suddenly takes a right into a small clearing. He slams the Triumphant into a tree. He shakes a bit before falling unconscious. His head limps forward. Wolfgang continues to hold onto him.

Wigfrid walks to Wolfgang’s side. Maxwell stays away from the two.

“…He shöuld still be there.” Says Wigfrid. “He must be!”

“…One way find out?” Asks Wolfgang hopefully.

Suddenly, the Triumphant’s head rises.

He takes his off his shades.

He looks up at the other performers, a small smile on his face.

Wes has returned.

The other performers smile brightly.

Until Wes winces. He then puts his shades back. As he recollects himself, Wolfgang tightens his grip on him.

“Where is Wesley?” Asks Wigfrid, furiously.

The Triumphant regains himself and smiles. “He’s gone.” He says without moving his lips. “There’s no point. Why don’t you two join the shadows? Your friend is lonely here. I know you both have some inner demons in you, too.”

“Is not what Wesley would want.” Says Wolfgang.

“But I am Wesley now, aren’t I not? Asks the Triumphant. “I bet his light has already dissipated.” He says smugly.

“‘Tis a lie! Yöu shall never be him!” Says Wigfrid. “That man has the greatest and brightest heart öne has ever been upön. He is still there. I knöw sö.”

“Would you be saying that if you were to know about his demons?” Asks the Triumphant smugly.

The Valkyrie and strongman’s widen in his confusion.

The Triumphant chuckles cockily. “Your dear friend decided to let me in because he wanted to have a chance to be of assistance to you. He decided to take the shadow’s hand. He was lying to you this entire time. Those aren’t qualities of a pure hearted man, correct?” He asks.

The other performers look at each other. The Triumphant expects to be let go.

But he’s not.

“…Wesley…” Wigfrid begins. “…Did that actually happen?”

“I just explained it.” Says the Triumphant. “Why wouldn’t it have happened?”

“I WAS NÖT ASKING YÖU!” Wigfrid shouts. She calms down. “…But if that be the truth…”

Wigfrid takes the Triumphant by the shoulders. The shadow squirms a bit, but Wolfgang keeps him bound as much as he can.

”…You dö nöt need tö fret aböut pröving yöurself to us.” Says Wigfrid. “We wön’t care as löng as yöu try. I knöw yöu will get there eventually.”

“We no leave you either.” Says Wolfgang. “We no care about how mighty you are. We care about you as person. How is doing, where heart is… dear friend Wesley heart is enough for us.”

“Please understand this öne thing we say tö thee…” Says Wigfrid.

”…We love you, Wesley.” Wolfgang and Wigfrid say in unison.

The two performers tightly hug the Triumphant.

Surprisingly, he only stays put. Doesn’t try to escape.

He soaks in the moment.

Maxwell walks up to the shade and removes his shades while he’s distracted. He shines his lantern directly in his face. The Triumphant hisses and tries to not look at the light. Wigfrid and Wolfgang’s grip on him only tightens.

“Give up.” Says Maxwell. “You have no power here anymore.”

The Triumphant continues to squirm.

Until the Strongman and Valkyrie deliver the finishing blow.

They kiss the Triumphant’s cheeks. Wigfrid takes the left, Wolfgang takes the right.

The Triumphant stops squirming and opens his eyes.

A weak spot.

Maxwell points the lantern into the Triuphant’s eyes.

Suddenly, the four of them are blinded by a bright light.

…

Maxwell, Wigfrid and Wolfgang slowly come to. Maxwell is in front of the now unconscious Triumphant while Wigfrid and Wolfgang are still at his sides.

The three gaze upon the man.

He is back in his mime attire.

What he was wearing before is gone.

“…Wesley?” Wigfrid asks.

“…Is alright?” Wolfgang asks.

Nothing happens for a bit…

…Until the man winces.

He slowly blinks open his eyes. He looks upon the performers.

A small smile forms on his face.

Wes had returned.

Wolfgang and Wigfrid smile brightly. They immediately hug Wes tightly. Wes hugs them back. The other two performers begin kissing Wes’ cheeks. Wes’ face goes a bit red.

“Wesley is back! Is back!” Wolfgang cheers excitedly.

“A miracle this be! A miracle I say!” Wigfrid cheers.

They don’t notice, but a smile has formed on Maxwell’s face.

Wes silently giggles. He’s glad to be back.

But his happiness is quickly replaced with guilt.

He thinks about what had caused him to make that deal. How, instead of helping them, he only hurt them.

The opposite of what he wanted.

He feels tears forming in his eyes.

The other performers notice. “What is wrong?” Wolfgang asks.

Wes rummages through his pocket and takes out his trusty notepad and pencil. He writes: 'I hurt you. I hurt you, all of you. How can I be okay when I caused you both great distress?”

The performers look at each other, then back to Wes. “…We knöw yöu had nö intent tö harm us. Yöu önly wanted tö help.”

“Is shadow that wanted to hurt us.” Says Wolfgang. “You and shadow different.”

Wes thinks about the performers’ words. As he does, Wolfgang and Wigfrid hug Wes by his sides.

…Wes and the shadow really were different from each other. Wes may have been too desperate, but his friends are understanding of that. They know he meant no harm with that deal. He was only blinded by the possibility of being of assistance. He can change for the better. They know he can. His shadow only wanted harm. Just as it did when Wes is on the Throne…

Wes smiles at this revelation. He hugs his friends back.

“I apologize for ceasing this moment, but I believe it’s best we return to camp.” Says Maxwell. “We’ve been awhile. The others are likely wondering where we’ve gone.”

“Ah! They must be!” Says Wigfrid. “Föllöw me! We must make haste!”

The performer trio stands, and with lanterns in hand, they head out of the forest.

“Curious.” Says Wolfgang. He turns to Wes. “Wesley remember kiss?”

Wes looks up to Wolfgang, blushing a bit. He’s referring to the kiss that had happened with the Triumphant. Wes very much remembered. He was very happy about it though. Wes nods happily.

“Ah, Wolfgang is glad.” Says Wolfgang.

“Oh. Apologies for not bringing this up earlier but…” Maxwell begins. “…You lot call him Wesley?”

Wigfrid and Wolfgang look embarrassed. They had intended to keep it a secret, as Wes only trusted them to know his real name. Wes shakes his hands at his fellow performers, indicating that he doesn’t mind him knowing. After the night, Wes trusted Maxwell more than he previously had. Maxwell does, in fact, have a soft spot. Wes is aware of the anger his friends had faced, so Maxwell was bound to hear it anyway.

Matter of fact… can I even call the performer trio 'friends' anymore?

- END -

[drsteggy]

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

You sent this twice, anon, so I’m gonna answer the first question now, as I’ve been thinking on it, and the second later.

And hey TW: mentions of pregnancy loss.

I don’t know that I ever have an expectation when I publish a fic. I don’t write the tent pole stuff people really like. Like half of what I do is genfic and most of it is so far down my own personal rabbit hole I’m happy anyone responds at all. I’m not writing chapters of ZeLink batting their eyes at each other. I also think I tend to muse about stuff the average fanfic reader isn’t interested in, and that’s fine, it’s not meant as a put down. There are days I just want my pairing/specific trope too, and frankly, that’s most of them.

So when I’m not being an insane/insecure person about my writing (which I keep wanting to say I’m beyond, but it never quite seems to be true) I do think I can keep a good boundary around what I secretly hope a fic will do.

Last year, at about this time,I was, for some reason, mulling over the bit of my own version of Zelda’s backstory that includes a miscarriage. It is sort of obliquely mentioned once or twice if you have read absolutely everything in the Faroreverse but the bullshit Zelda deals with in her 30s has never been something I’ve published about. I’ve written a lot but none of its cohesive enough to even call a draft. I must have had friends who were on social media mourning children they did not have, all full of deep sadness and what if and potential that never got to be and maybe this kicked me over.

I’ve never been pregnant. I never will be. But I shepherd people through very sad and tragic things almost every day I’m at work. I had one of these sad things coming up on an anniversary and although Maple was not my dog, and I only met her people that one day, it was such a horrible a awful day, and that might have been on my mind too.

So I very carefully wrote The Risk of Love where an older Zelda shares the loss of her daughter who would have been sixteen the day Link pulled the sword if she’d survived with Link and let him deal with it. He has had a lot of time to learn to be an emotionally mature person by the time this fic happens in his story and I’m very pleased by how he has learned to lean and give support.

I really did not think anyone was going to read a short sad story about a lost pregnancy retold by a middle aged woman. The surprise was the people who did read it. I had people fandom blind read and and tell me how they hurt for Zelda. One woman on Reddit who read just a snip messaged me to tell me about her own loss.

I really, really love how this fic came out. It’s one of those things that wasn’t FOR something and I feel I do my best work there. The fact that it resonated the way it did was the pleasant surprise.

Original fic ask post here