#but have to be picky with it unfortunately and I haven’t been to one in over a year atp

[blossoms-phan]

what was your first concert

[inaflashimagine]

(i’ll love you) til’ the day that i die

pairing: nagumo yoichi x reader

wc: 5k

features: a piece that is part of a multi-chapter nagumo x reader x akao rion story i've been working on–i found it fitting that this section talks about his birthday! the only present he'll be getting here though is angst. includes manga spoilers, numerous mentions of akao. no use of pronouns. and for some context, reader was a poisons-making student at the JCC

The harmonious union between Sakamoto Taro and Aoi is slated to happen during the middle of the worst heat wave in years.

It’s also the same week as Nagumo’s birthday.

Within a hand’s length lies a mini swiveling fan working its best in spite of the brutal conditions. When the weak breeze finally hits the front of your face you let out the most contented sigh. 

Today you’re supposed to water the bountiful assortment of plants decorating your living room and balcony–some cultivated for fun, like the tricky fern a doting, elderly neighbor had given you recently, and others grown for work, like your newly blooming sacred datura–but completing such a task would require you to stand up. And since moving from your current position requires energy you cannot manage to expend, you continue lying on the wooden floor of your apartment, limbs sprawled out lazily like a lounging starfish as you try to ignore the perspiration forming on your forehead. 

Staring at the ceiling, you think about the outfit Asami helped you choose a few days ago, an alarmingly expensive one that’s currently hidden in the corner of your packed closet–a simple, but elegant chiffon fit that flows down to the ankles. Unfortunately, you fear that a feather-light fabric won’t stop you from sweating buckets if your current get-up of a loose tank top and baggy shorts has anything insightful to offer on how you’ll fare the weather in the coming days.

You also regret not buying a present for Nagumo the day you went shopping. The wedding is not for three days, but his birthday is tomorrow. There’s no shot you’ll be able to leave your place today unless someone drags you out of it.

Even if you somehow manage to get outside, you’re still not sure what you’ll get him. Though he denies your accusations of him being a scrupulous person with refined tastes (“Me? Picky? Never!”), you’ll never forget almost choking on your dinner the one time you decided to search up the price of those shiny custom leather boots he likes to wear on assignments. The same missions where blood splatters all over the place.

Not that it matters. Unlike Asami, you don’t have the uncanny ability to distinguish and pick out good designer items, so purchasing anything in that realm feels pointless when he likely already owns that piece or will return the ones he dislikes. You guess being a professional assassin with a lot of money to spend means you can afford to be more deliberate with what you wear.

It also feels cheap to repeat presents, although there are a few golden ones to choose from the previous list. When he turned nineteen, he was initially wary of using the hefty supply of medicine you made to treat his motion sickness, considering you first gave him a similar concoction in high school that only had him hurling more violently. (A genuine mistake, you swear. Perhaps just as much as he swears his car sickness is genuine and not an excuse to get out of driving duty.) But aside from a mission that Sakamoto said would’ve been a disaster without Kamihate, lately you haven’t heard any complaints about him feeling carsick.

(Though two weeks ago, Shishiba picked up the batch of incapacitating agents and truth serums he needed for a target before randomly telling you that Nagumo still takes the pills whenever there’s a particularly long car trip. It almost felt like the blond was indirectly thanking you, since he said he was grateful that the rental cars could now stay tidy, but that small, knowing smirk irked you enough to tell him to get going with his mission unless he wanted to be forcefed an onion salad.) 

Maybe Nagumo would like an air conditioner. You sure would like one. 

There is one other option. It wouldn’t be particularly fancy or brand new, but perhaps the sentiment it brings will suffice. Slightly lifting your head, you stare at one of the only two pictures hanging on the otherwise blank wall. You swear you had a copy of it, but now you’re doubting yourself. The more you mull it over, the more complicated it seems, and you groan in frustration as your head hits the hard floor rather forcefully.

Just fretting over this makes you laugh. Your high school self could never imagine this being what you’d spend your waking days thinking about. Back then, the thought of calling Nagumo your friend made you instantly gag, and while now you sometimes hate admitting it aloud, it would be childish to outright deny your friendship with him. 

You only started getting him presents when someone suggested a group one for his eighteenth, begrudgingly agreeing to the idea because you figured a smiling, happy Nagumo was significantly better than dealing with a version that would resort to theatrics to lament the lack of receiving a present. Strangely enough, gifting him something not only celebrates his day but also feels like you’re keeping the spirit of another alive.

“Care to share your thoughts?”

Your lips pull into a slight frown, finding that the comforting canvas that is your ceiling has now been blocked by Nagumo’s large forehead.

“No wonder why you grow out your bangs.”

“Hurtful!” But his smirk hints that he’s not too offended, even when a freakishly long arm stretches outward to flick your own head. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘Hello’, dare I even say, a cordial ‘How are you’?”

“Oh. Right. I guess I can say that.” You blink slowly, a gesture he returns. “But maybe after you tell me how you got in here?”

That question is a moot one, considering he’s become an expert at discovering new ways to break into your apartment without causing a ruckus. To tally the number of times you’ve opened the front door just to see him lounging on the couch–smooching off your snacks and streaming subscriptions despite having his own–would require more than the two hands you currently have attached. Unfortunately, there’s no point in changing the locks when he knows how to pick each one.

He remains bent over from the waist up, hands placed on hips as his eyes idly roam across your face. From this position, falling strands of his jet-black hair look like icicles that are on the precipice of impaling your head.

“You know, you really should shut your windows when you’re not in the room! Who knows when a psycho might sneak into your lovely home?”

Entering through your bedroom window is a new method. Though you’ve only started living here for half a year, eager to move into a place that wasn’t directly above your’s family perfumery. After the JAA News Channel and the JAA Times deemed the shop the second-best fragrance store in the Western branches–tragically losing the coveted first-place spot to the Nishimuras–clientele has been an all-time high while privacy has been abysmally low. (Yet perhaps you’ve overestimated your ability to find the latter in the first place.)

You’re just glad you don’t have to go to the locksmith again–the poor old man started to worry for your safety when he saw you for a third time in less than a month. 

“Did you say hi to Mochi? He’s been enjoying his free roaming time.” 

He appears as if his brain stopped working, blank doe eyes as wide as ever. A nervous laugh leaves his agape mouth that becomes frozen into a forced grin. “He’s what?”

“What’s with that tone?”

“Oh, you mean my perfectly normal reaction to finding out your poisonous snake is outside its tank?”

Your dejected sigh is a long one. “For the millionth time, he’s venomous, not poisonous.”

The footsteps of professional assassins are quieter than that of a seasoned ballerina, so the fact that you can easily hear Nagumo’s hurried ones as he retreats to the hallway shows how dramatic he’s being. Your assumption that he’s heading to the guest room–which currently holds all your reptilian enclosures, including a safely stored Mochi–is right as he exclaims, “Oh, you think you’re a comedian now?”

Though the joke was short-lived your amusement thankfully lasts longer. “You still haven’t greeted him, that’s so rude! My, oh my, whatever happened to a simple ‘Hello’? Don’t hurt his feelings.”

“Killing the birthday boy is ruder! I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

While Mochi is a boomslang, a snake whose venomous bite can have you bleed from all your orifices until you die, his previous owner made the rather unethical choice to have its glands removed. He’s probably the most timid snake you’ve rescued–and one of the most beautiful with such vibrant green scales–but you’d never free handle him. Of course, Nagumo doesn’t need to know that important tidbit. With how rare it is to successfully prank or lie to him, you secretly enjoy pulling his leg once in a blue moon.

“Not sure if you know this, but your birthday isn’t for another twenty-four hours,” you say with closed eyes, trying to picture yourself on a cool island rather than the sweltering oven that is your living room. Talking right now feels incredibly draining. “So at this very moment, there is no obligation to keep you entertained.”

Nagumo draws out a weary exhale. “Must you make our relationship sound so transactional? I just wanted to relax with a friend after a busy work day.”

When you no longer feel the faint wind from your fan, you crack an eye open and turn your head, only to see that the precious item has been moved so that he can direct it toward his own face while he places himself next to you.

His body lies in the opposite direction to yours, but both your curious gazes match at the same level. He’s replaced the suit and tie for an unbuttoned and eccentrically patterned camp collar shirt over a baggy black tank top and bright blue shorts, meaning the scorching heat outside is no fluke. It’s the first time you’re noticing how long his hair has grown, a small knot poking out from the nape of his neck.

“I’m not sure if our relationship is transactional since that implies a two-way model,” you explain slowly, like a teacher introducing a complex concept to their students. “I give, you take, and then I take when you give. If that’s actually the case, what will I get after you’ve stolen my hair tie?”

You just bought a new pack of them, too. The urge to head to your room to see if they’ve all been swiped from your vanity is strong, but the will to stay still is stronger.

He grins largely, the pale skin on his neck pulling taut as your glance falls to the Fibonacci spiral. That was the first tattoo he got after receiving the hefty commission that comes with being a member of the Order. It seems to glisten with small beads of perspiration, and you’re surprised the only enemy that triggers him to break out into a sweat is this unbearable weather.

“Well, I figured my presence was enough for you. Maybe more than enough, even.”

The snort that leaves you is less than graceful. “That’s a line all your targets must love hearing.”

He hums, stroking his chin. “I wouldn’t know, since I just came up with it today, and I took the day off.”

“You said today was a long work day.”

“Did I?” His carefree laugh sounds like chimes rustling in the soft wind. “Ah, you know me, I always take the week off for my birthday.”

“You’ve never done that.”

“It’s a new tradition. Thought it would be fitting with the little wedding happening in a few days.” His fingers lock together when he places them atop his chest, exhaling a wistful sigh. “Sakamoto-kun, getting married! They grow up so fast.”

Your body tenses at that. You know it should be good news–you’re happy for Sakamoto, too. It’s the implications that come with marrying a civilian that makes you worry.

Hyo brought it up during the last time he stopped by the shop, needing to pick up domoic acid for a mission; the sight of one of the tallest men you’ve seen cradling a miniature bottle would’ve provided more comic relief were it not for his questions that followed. When he commented that the quiet man was taking more time off and following through on fewer assignments, you figured he was mildly complaining about the need for other Order members to pick up his slack. Then he asked when was the last time you talked to Sakamoto.  

It would’ve seemed random–especially since you and Hyo seldom discuss anything beyond fragrances and poisons–had you not made that unspoken agreement with Nagumo months ago. Since that night, you’ve been careful with running into Sakamoto, or any 7-Eleven for that matter. 

And from what Nagumo has told you, no one else in the Order knows about Aoi, much less the fact that you two have met her. You hope it stays that way. The last thing this wedding needs is a splash of red.

Especially when you know the JAA doesn’t take well to assassins exposing the cracks in the association’s carefully constructed structure, and particularly when those who disrespect the rules causes others to question whether they could do the same. Almost two years have passed since Yotsumura’s defection, but his absence still looms over like a dark cloud in the distance that no one wants to acknowledge. The members first pointing out the fresh jagged scar on Shishiba’s chin was the last time anything connected to the founder of the Order was mentioned. 

His death serves a dull, painful reminder. A threat. Yotsumura was the one who hired you as a poisons expert retainer for his organization, a deal you only accepted after he assured you that you were chosen not because of Nagumo’s unabating–and Sakamoto’s sporadic–recommendations, but solely for recreating a highly coveted poison that was last made by your father. (“I don’t trust those two and I’m not the type to do favors. Besides, people who can make decent poisons are short in numbers these days.)

If the JAA treated their former No. 2 man like that, you fear how they might dispose of others who forget their loyalty. It’s a warning those like Hyo heed, and those like Sakamoto will ignore, especially if it contradicts what they want. 

So with Hyo being such a stickler for the rules, you simply shrugged at his question before changing the subject. If anyone is going to announce a JAA violation, it should be Sakamoto himself. Your job requires you to be okay with helping others kill, a fact you’ve never challenged, but you refuse to cause the death of an innocent civilian.

Thankfully, Hyo didn’t think much of your lack of an answer. Maybe he caught the visible discomfort in your shifting figure before dropping the topic, asking how your grandparents were instead. You sincerely hope his soft side–which you swear you’ve seen before–allows him to be more understanding of this delicate situation Sakamoto’s placed himself in. 

But the real concern lies in how long everyone will continue believing this false narrative that one of the country’s most formidable assassins won’t call it quits the minute he gets hitched to a normie.

“I still can’t believe it,” you say after a hot minute, eyes fixed back onto the ceiling. “They seem like complete opposites.”

Nagumos laughs, sounding quite amused. “Well, you’re definitely convinced they’ll stay together…”

“It’s not that, I just–” Where are you going with this? “Marriage is such a foreign concept to me.”

Even the way the word rolls off your tongue feels weird. Sounds off. 

“Foreign? Haven't you been to a wedding before?”

“Have you?”

Although he doesn’t respond right away, you can feel him burning holes into your face. 

You continue to stare straight above. 

“Well, I guess I crashed one, but that counts, right?” He bites his lip in contemplation. “The bride didn’t appreciate me killing the groom before their photoshoot, though.”

It takes restraint to not laugh darkly at what you ideally hope is a joke, but are cynically aware could very likely be the truth. “Gee, I wonder why…”

“Anyway, you act as if people in our profession don’t get married.”

“They don’t.” You won’t. At least, you don’t think you will. But telling him that feels wrong, so you stick with the unpleasant, sour taste in your mouth.

“And your parents? Mine?”

You can’t recall the last time he’s mentioned his parents. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever brought them up before.

“I mean, married to civilians.”

The sound of the fan whirring back to life makes you switch your gaze back to the floor. To Nagumo positioning the petite contraption next to your face.

“Man, this heat has you all depressed! We gotta make sure you’re not behaving like this at the wedding–no one likes a party pooper.”

“Nagumo, be serious for once,” you plead wearily, hating that it sounds like you’re whining.

“Oh man, I can’t be the only one feeling this sense of deja vu!”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be daft. Haven’t we talked about this before?” There’s a mirthful glint in his gaze that accompanies that teasing tone.

Right, the ‘tranquil’ nightly stroll featuring a civil conversation that felt more like some absurd ultimatum. “Not to the extent we should’ve.”

“Hmm, I remember calling it silly. A tad foolish. Ridiculous, sure. What else will fit…I’ll have to pull out a thesaurus at this rate.”

“I’m worried for her.”

He immediately stops ticking off his senseless list of words, sharp eyes studying your concern. “Hah! Worried? Come on, you know he’ll protect her. Will probably teach her a few moves, or maybe it’s the other way around. He did mention that she’s a Bruce Lee fan.”

The steady thrum of the spinning fan matches the rapid beats of your heart as you look at him imploringly. “And you know that’s not what I’m concerned about.”

His lips press firmly, a sudden grim expression saying more than his words ever could.

Nagumo may be as skillful as Sakamoto, perhaps even more adept than his old friend, yet his inability to move on hinders him. He can lie about no longer being affected by it. Can masterfully hide his need for closure. But any hypocrite can spot when someone else is relying on the methods they also use.

He’s like you, in that way. The thought strikes your head so abruptly it begins to ache.

It’s his turn to look up, hands behind his head as he sighs. “It’ll be okay! Seriously. She trusts him.”

“As if that’s enough.” In this world, it isn’t. If Sakamoto attempts to leave, it will only follow him. 

He has to be aware of this. Right? Blind trust is reserved for idiots who enjoy getting hurt.

“Hmm, who’s to say? But being so guarded sure makes for a boring life.”

Your stomach twists into knots, cognizant of who that’s directed toward. “At least it guarantees safety.”

“Please,” he chides, not unkindly, “then why stick to poison-making? And nothing in life is guaranteed. You know that more than anyone.”

He must catch your slight wince–of course he does, who are you kidding?–because he quickly adds on, a bit higher in pitch and certainly more lively than how you’re feeling, “One never knows when there’s an assassin about to cut off your head, after all!”

“I’m talking about Aoi, here.” Yet you aren’t fooling anyone with how defensive you sound.

“You really are the worst liar I know.” He turns his body to face you in the same direction, calling your name when you’re reluctant to do the same. His voice is so quiet your ears strain to hear the low mumble. “What are you so afraid of?”

It doesn’t help that when you close your eyes, you only see her face. Can even vividly picture every single strand of blue hair that hides the tiny dark flecks in those annoyingly golden eyes.

This really is the last conversation you want to have with anyone, least of all him. 

You suck in a short breath before rolling to your side, growing increasingly aware of how stuffy the room feels. How close he is to you. 

“I’m not afraid, I’m…” You falter. “I’m just tired of losing people.” 

Your face burns as you continue to be met with silence, a quiet that you doubt with how loudly your heart pounds against your ribs. The confession is incredibly shameful to say aloud, considering what you do for a living. It’s more embarrassing to admit it to another person, specifically to someone who will undoubtedly respond with one of his classic facetious remarks. (Though you argue such a reply is warranted.) 

But still, finally getting it out in the open, after sitting with it for so long, makes you feel a bit less lonely. 

He doesn’t say anything, his uncharacteristically sober gaze searching yours.

You feel him grab your hand gently, your muscles initially flexed when you see him place it on top of his cheek.

Yet there’s no other resistance on your end, and you’re frightened by how quickly your body reacts to the movement. Your palm even seems to have a mind of its own with the way it cups his face immediately. As if some primordial instinct just kicked in.

Nagumo stays still as your fingers trace soft lines across his smooth skin. From the delicate slope of his nose and the high set of cheekbones to the sharp edge of his jaw and the long lashes that frame round, dark eyes. Eyes that hold a void you’re never able to tap yourself into, unless you risk getting sucked into that black hole. 

You feel starved, unable to stop admiring a beauty so alluring. Inviting. He’s warm to the touch. 

Alive. 

And despite your brain reminding you that he’s here, right in front of you, another part of you can’t believe it until you’ve committed every feature to memory. The intimate action requires all your concentration that you nearly forget the light trail of sweat forming at the back of your neck, or the insufferable heat threatening to swallow you two whole.

Your fingers hover right above his lips with a slight waver, though you unabashedly stare at them and the way they twist upwards when he catches you in the act. 

“Go out with me.”

A mere whisper, terribly low that if you aren’t sharing the same breaths you might’ve missed it.

It feels like you just got the wind knocked out of you. Looking up, you blink away the reverie you slipped yourself into, trying your best to forget the moment when those exact same words were said by someone else so long ago. “What?”

“Go out with me,” he repeats, a bit louder this time, and that’s when you notice his hand is on your hip. “We can go to the wedding together. Be the hottest couple.” He pauses, thinking that over again. “Well, second hottest, I suppose. That’s what we’d tell them, anyway.”

You’d laugh from the shock of it all if it weren’t for your unsteady heart attempting to jump out of your chest. “How…forward of you.”

Even his snorts are graceful. “You say that as if it’s a new trait of mine.”

“That’s because I don’t know what else to say.”

He smiles enthusiastically, and there’s a rare hint of nervousness to its boyish character. “How about ‘yes’? That’s not only the easiest answer but the right one, especially for the birthday boy.”

“Hey, you can’t pull that card.” You’re surprised your racing mind can currently form a coherent sentence. “Not yet, at least.”

His eyes crease with the smug smirk playing on his lips. “Huh, I guess you’re right. Not that I need to use it. Because we both know you feel it, too.”

The tip of his thumb skirts under your shirt and a shiver wracks your body from the contact. 

To steady the slight tremor in your hand, you flatten your palm against his face. Grasping fingers find purchase in his hair, a light exhale falling past your lips upon realizing how soft it is. Uncaring for how you cause it to fall loose from the tied knot. You know you shouldn’t, that you should stop. But it’s the only thing grounding you at the moment.

You can see your conflicted expression reflected in those big brown eyes that you get lured into far easily. The cascading sunlight makes them appear as a rich, coppery chestnut you can’t, or rather, don’t want to tear yourself away from.  

For a brief second, you can picture it clearly, can sense it with every fiber of your being. His comforting embrace after a long, tiresome day. The curve of his lips against your own. Entwining his hands with yours. Taking in his scent until you can distinguish no other. Him having you all to himself and you having him all to yourself. Where no one else, no thing can reach. The image is so vivid that you can touch it with a stretch of your arm, feel it brush against the edge of your fingertips. Closing your eyes, you feel yourself lean in, almost allow yourself to give in, to be swept by the grandeur of it all.

Almost.

You’re not sure what exactly pulls you back, but the uneasy dread that begins pooling in your stomach becomes harder to ignore with each sharp breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, a dull ache in your heart as you painfully pry your heavy hand off him and shake your head.

“I can’t.” Air leaves your chest. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

The instant those words leave your mouth you know you’ve made a mistake. You desperately wish you could tell him why–to provide him some sort of explanation beyond the half-assed ‘it feels wrong’. Or at least something, anything, that doesn’t teeter between the straight razor edge of unnecessarily cruel and downright insane.

But when his smile no longer reaches his eyes, you doubt a clarification would’ve prevented him looking this sad. 

And then it’s gone in an instant. His well-worn mask is back on, the sunny disposition written so well across his face you wonder if the slightest inkling of disappointment was simply a figment of your imagination. 

He truly is a master of his craft. 

The room suddenly feels frigid and sterile, and panic begins to rise in your chest the moment he starts getting up. 

You find yourself standing, lamely trailing behind as he begins to open the door. “Wait, hold on–”

“Now, no need to look so guilty,” he says casually, back facing towards you. He tilts his head so you can only catch a glimpse of his face. Save for the thin stretch of his lips, you can’t begin to read his expression, much less fathom what’s going on in that head of his. “Not when I was just kidding!”

The cheerful delivery of that last line sounds so feigned you much prefer being stabbed in the gut multiple times than being the one to blame for all this. 

“Nagumo,” you try once again, voice getting weaker, “We should talk about this.”

He’s less than a few steps away from you but you’ve never felt this distant from him. You hate how good he is at making it seem like you’re an acquaintance he can now cross off his yearly check-in quota. Oceans apart would be a generous underestimate.

“See you at the wedding!”

The door closes before you can register that he’s left, not giving you the chance to study even the slightest change in his face. 

Then again, you don’t think you’ve ever been able to read past his facade. 

In such a short amount of time, everything seems to have flipped upside down, anxiety gripping its claws into you while you pace back and forth in search of a solution. You worry it might be too late to mend the gaping hole you recklessly created. 

In your frenetic pacing, your shoulder bumps into the wall, two pictures no longer in view as they fall onto the floor. The shattered glass punctures the silence that weighs in the air. Cursing under your breath, you bend down, careful to not cut yourself with the broken shards as you pick up the first photo and stare at the four people looking right back at you. 

It was Asami’s first photograph on the new digital camera you had gifted her for her birthday. She told all of you to smile and look at the fancy device, but (shockingly) only you, the poisons student who treated a lab manual like scripture, followed her instructions. 

Sakamoto ended up blinking in this one, and the last time you checked, a frown was not a smile. A squinting Akao was right next to him and to your left. Her black jacket slipped past her shoulders as she poked Nagumo in the cheek after she caught him wiggling his hand behind your head with two fingers up. One of his eyes was closed, the other one looking at you, but at least he was grinning from ear to ear. You can’t even remember what she was shouting at him, her open mouth–with the slightest upward curve at the corner if you examine it long enough–remaining frozen in time. All you can recall is their bickering making you laugh hard enough that your smile felt effortless. 

You try your hardest not to cry but realize it’s a lost cause when a teardrop dampens the photo paper.

[lace-coffin]

Hello! 👋 I have a really weird kinda specific request for Asa. Could you pretty please write headcanons of Asa with a picky eater s/o? But like an emotional picky eater, idk if that makes sense. Personally I have a rlly hard time with motivation to eat, I'm also a picky eater so when someone else eats my food and I run out of my favorites I get really frustrated and emotional because it's hard for me to eat already and eating foods I don't like just make it 10x harder. Idk I'm a crybaby and cry over food lol. Sorry if this is weird or too specific 😅. Anyways I love your writing keep up the good work and have a fantastic day/night!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request! No need to apologise! I love specific requests! I’m also a pretty picky eater due to my autism so ur not alone! I’m so happy u like my writing ah T T have a fantastic night urself!!

Asa Emory x picky eater!Reader

Requests are open!

The restaurant was supposed to be a reward for your good behaviour lately, unfortunately it turned into a nightmare only moments after being seated. Flicking through the menu your heart rate starts to spike, making you feel a little sweaty and out of it. The restaurant is beautiful and lavish but unfortunately that means the menu is more ‘out there’ and doesn’t have any of your safe foods on it…

You don’t want to ruin the reward, it’s a nice restaurant and you’re here to enjoy it with your master. attempting to shovel the anxiety down you order something that you think could be edible to you. Your nervous energy dies down a little as convocation flows between the two of you, laughing along easily and lost in it you almost forget the problem at hand. Until it arrives.

Five minuets pass and you haven’t eaten more than one bite after pushing the meal around your plate with the fork, trying to stall. You try will yourself to take another bite but you can’t do it, your eyes are starting to water and you don’t know what to do, if only you could just buckle down and eat it. Unfortunately that’s not an option, your stomach starting to turn and your breath catching at the idea.

Asa notices you haven’t spoken in a while, he figured you’d just been enjoying the meal until he’d looked up, your face contorted in worry and tears threatening to fall.

“-re you ok? Pet?”

Blinking away your tears you pull yourself back into the moment, only catching the latter half of what your partner said but getting the gist. No use in hiding it now, there’s no way you’re going to finish this meal without crying, and you sure as fuck don’t want to be crying in the middle of the restaurant. You can’t think of anything more mortifying.

Eyes falling away from Asa and back to the plate you take a breath and begin to explain, voice small and apologetic.

“They didn’t have any foods I know I like so uh I ordered something new! I didn’t like it though..” you say, wincing a little.

“I’ve tried my best to eat it but I just..can’t. I promise I’ve tried my hardest and I really want this reward to be good and I love being here with you but it’s stressing me out so bad!” You sniffle again at the end, explaining the issue always makes you emotional again.

“Oh pet” Asa sighs with a fond expression.

“You should’ve said something, it’s really no worry at all, we could’ve gone somewhere else, I won’t take offence.”

You let out an exhale of relief, realistically you knew he wouldn’t be angry with you considering he already knew about your eating difficulties but it still didn’t stop you from panicking.

“Cricket” your owner addresses you again, reaching over the table to hold your hand.

“Would you like to leave and get some takeout? We can go to your favourite, it’s your reward after all.” He smiles softly at you.

Squeezing his hand affectionately you can’t help but grin back.

“I would love that, sir.”

I rlly wanted to do the rest of ur request too so have some extra headcanons on the house lmao

“Come on pet, just one more bite and I promise no more.” Asa coos as he scoops the spoon full of food, bringing it to your lips. The gesture is very sweet but unfortunately you want absolutely nothing less than to have the next bite, the idea nauseating.

-After finding out about the difficulties you have surrounding food he likely keeps multiple packages of your safe food stocked in the house

-always has a food you know you like in the freezer or fridge on standby when trying new foods incase it doesn’t go well

-he’ll never get angry at you if you suddenly go off your food, he’ll either offer to get you something else or make you pinky promise to eat later when you feel better

-has absolutely let you cry it out more than once at the drive through when you find out the thing you’ve been thinking about all day is out of stock

-if you’re finding it hard to eat and he absolutely can’t get you out of bed/move you to eat then he’ll bring the food too you, will happily feed you if you ask or look like you need it, he loves to feel dominant and needed

[winterrsun]

An aversion to zombie brains

Mini drabble I cooked up

Blurb- Not long after the group arrived at Alexandria you feel a little off. Daryl thinks settling there has made you weak, but what if it’s something more than that?

Reader x Rick | some fluff, references to smut but no smut in story

Warnings: pregnancy references. Some gore. Language (f-word).

This just popped into my head and I had to write it out immediately instead of doing work like I’m supposed to be woops

“You sure you’re good to out today, you’ve been a little under the weather lately” Rick softly enquired as you finished lacing up your boots.

“How did you pick up on that, I haven’t said anything? And I’m fine, I’m itching to get out of here for a bit” you replied with a smile.

“I notice things” he smirked, “you haven’t been eating much. And you’ve been sleeping in later in the mornings. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am, I promise” you said, planting a kiss to his lips before leaving.

You headed through the gates of Alexandria with Daryl, Rosita, Carol and Glenn by your side. Glenn looked at the list in his hand of supplies you were all scouting today.

“Let’s head out east” he suggested, “and stick together for now until we find something concrete to search”.

It wasn’t a particularly fruitful run, unfortunately. You did run in to a small heard of walkers, 20 or so. Nothing your capable group couldn’t handle. However, as you plunged your large knife into a walker skull and the smell of its leaking blood and brains down your arm hit you, you experienced a visceral reaction as if it were your first time killing one of these things.

Your brain clouded with dizziness and you instantly gagged. Trying to shake it off you turned to the next walker fast approaching you, snapping its teeth, but couldn’t repress the heaving sensation making its way up the back of your throat. You pivoted away from the walker and threw your breakfast up all over the ground, while Daryl’s bolt pierced the skull of your would-be attacker, sending the walker to the ground in an instant.

The group picked off the last couple roamers with ease while you continued to retch, before shakily straightening up and wiping your mouth with your sleeve. You were mortified, you couldn’t understand why that had happened. You must have killed at least a hundred of those animated corpses by now, many in much more gruesome ways than a knife cleanly to the skull. You’d never had a reaction like this before. Maybe you had food poisoning.

“The hell was that?” Daryl asked. His tone wasn’t angry, but you still felt ashamed.

“I- I don’t know. I think it must’ve been something I ate?” You stammered.

“We’ve all been eating the same food though” Rosita replied. “Plus it’s way better than anything we’ve eaten in months.”

You shrugged helplessly. “I really don’t know guys. I’m sorry” you said.

Daryl scoffed a bit, “I think I know what it is. I think these sheltered Alexandrians are rubbing off on ya. Don’t go getting weak on us now.”

Your eyes widened, “oh come on! That is not it” you began in argument, but Daryl’s wide grin stopped you and he started to chuckle. He was just teasing you; one of his favourite pastimes.

“Youre an ass, Dixon” you grumbled.

The group made their way back to Alexandria without further incident. As you closed in on the last mile of the journey, making your way down the now-familiar path, Carol pulled you back for a chat.

“How long have you been under the weather?” She asked you gently.

“A couple weeks, on and off” you admitted. “I don’t really know what it is, maybe stress adapting to this place? Maybe my body’s having a fit now that the constant survival mode feeling has reduced a little.”

“Mmm, maybe” Carol replied after a pause. “I’ve noticed you not eating much, and being picky on what you will eat. I haven’t known you to be picky with food before” she continued.

“Yeah….well I don’t know….like I said I think it’s probably stress?” You asked it as a question, wanting her to up and reveal what she was getting at.

The two of you walked in silence for a couple of minutes before she continued. “How long since your last period honey?”

You looked at her, then straight ahead, as you tried to remember. You couldn’t really. You knew you hadn’t had one yet since arriving at Alexandria, and your group had been there over six weeks now.

You remember feeling thankful to not have one on the road for a while, because when you did get it on the road it was fucking awful.

“Couple months, at least” you answered finally. “That could be stress too” you pointed out halfheartedly.

“It could” Carol agreed, “but I’m not sure it is” she added.

She walked ahead back into the group, leaving you at the back with your mind racing a hundred miles a minute. You and Rick were careful, you tried to be at least. When you didn’t have condoms he’d always pull out. And while high school health class taught you that wasn’t a fool proof method, you also tried your best to keep track of your cycle and when you’d be at highest risk of pregnancy.

That was at the prison, when life had some level of structure and stability. You couldn’t keep track of anything on the road. You thought back to the few moments you and Rick had shared while your group travelled and survived. That time against a tree when you were meant to be looking for firewood. Another time under an old railway bridge. You hadn’t been very careful the last few months you realised.

As you re-entered Alexandria, you saw Rick approaching the group to welcome you all back, clapping Daryl on the back and smiling at Carol. He walked up to you and pulled you into his arm, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

You looked up at him, and suddenly felt very nervous.

“You okay?” He asked, brow furrowed as he looked into your anxious eyes.

“I think we need to talk babe” you replied.

[ashdreams2023]

Hiya would you be able to write a one shot Loki x reader with chronic pain (POTS and EDS specifically) for me I struggle with knee pain, cramping, and my hands have become very weak over the years xx and I struggle with fainting, dizziness and migraines (I know this is a lot) ….and if it could be fluffy and spicy that’d be amazing xx

Of course sweetheart!

Summary: loki takes care of you on a rough day (slightly heated at the end)

Silly questions

You sighed in relief, finally being able to sit after that conference, plus it was cold as hell, your joints are killing you.

Everyone had left after the conference to finish personal errands before night time, leaving you alone in the compound.

"How are you feeling?"

Oh and Loki of course.

"I’m alright" you smiled "cuddle with me?"

"Food first, you haven’t eaten yet"

You pouted but got up and followed him to the kitchen, there was already some leftovers from breakfast and you didn’t feel picky that day so you just hoped the pancakes were not soggy yet.

The two of you sat down on opposite sides of the dining table and helped yourself "I need Bruce type of patience to survive these conferences" you mumble.

"Believe me even banner can’t stand them….can do that yourself?" He gestured to your hands, they were shaking slightly while holding your knife and fork.

"Oh yes, it’s nothing major, I can manage" And as on cue your winced in pain when you lifted your hand, this wasn’t the worst you’ve experienced but that didn’t make any less painful.

"Ok that’s it, drop the utensils" he stop up and walked across the table and sat beside you.

You tried to protest but ended up hurting yourself more by the sudden movements….maybe he was right. Your arms warped around your middle as you tried to catch your breath and not pass out.

Loki put his hand on your back, he muttered a few words you couldn’t understand, it was probably yet another dead language.

But to your surprise the more his hand stayed there, warmth spread through your body, it defeated the cold you had been feeling all morning.

"Here let me" He picked up your spoon and held it to you mouth "Now eat or do I have to do it baby bird style?" You rolled your eyes through the pain but accepted his help.

Most days than not you’ll feel embarrassed if this had happened in front of people, you didn’t like people to treat you like you’re made of glass, even if it was in a way partly true.

"I’m putting heating charm on your bed and you will take the medicine the doctor has prescribed for you"

"….but I hate taking it, it’s-"

"It’s either you take them willingly or I will magic them up in your stomach, your choice" Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, you hated take medicine but you hated the after feeling of that specific spell.

"Fine…." He fed you until you couldn’t eat anymore then took the plates.

You pushed yourself up and got off the chair but unfortunately a case of dizziness attacked you immediately and before you knew there was only the sound of your body hitting the ground and Loki’s quick feet running towards you.

It was a bit blurry but you could make out Loki splashing water at your face and carrying you to the bedroom where he eventually laid you on your bed and as promised he puts a charm on your bed "will you stay with me?" You asked.

He puts his hand on your head and plants a kiss on each of your cheeks "Don’t ask silly questions" his tone sounded concerned.

Your heart fluttered and the pain was not there for a minute, he laid with you in bed, his body felt unusually warm, he always did this, made himself uncomfortable for your sake, went up and beyond his nature for you to feel alright.

"Are you ok? This isn’t hurting you?" You asked.

He sighed and warped his arms tighter around you "I told you to stop asking silly questions, I’m fine as long as you are"

You wanted to cry, you knew he was also hurting by making his body this warm but Loki was stubborn and no matter how much you begged him to stop he wouldn’t budge.

"Loki" you whined gripping onto his top.

He chuckles lightly and starts kissing your face all over, his hand rubs your sighs, tugging teasingly on the hem of your sweatpants then sliding his hand underneath and grabbing your bottom.

You can feel him hard against your body, it made your face burn.

"Look at you all warmed up, so beautifully desperate"

"Shut up" you hid your face away.

He covered your head with his arm and brought it to his chest, you could his heart, it was racing, the heat wasn’t good for his heart.

"But seeing you hurting is worse so stop thinking out loud and let me heal you"

You bit down on your lip and held onto him, there was yet a silly question in your mind but you had to remember that Loki didn’t like silly questions for the answer is always right there.

[sixosix]

do you think maybe you could do a relationship dynamic with izuku as uber famous celebrity x the one cafe barista who doesn't know who they are?

( a/n ) anon i don’t know if ur even here anymore cus this ask was sent september last year but just know that i always thought about you. I LOVE KOTA so he’s here

“listen, i get it,” you say, sliding to the left to cram the bagel into a small, brown paper bag with the shop’s logo printed unevenly on the front, “lo-fi’s not your thing. that’s cool. but you’re really the only one complaining about it.”

the lo-fi isn’t even that bad. sure, you can’t differentiate songs from another if you tried, but it’s a fun game to try when you’re bored, and your only company are the flies and warm sun filtering through. the top fifty songs haven’t changed for too long, and you’ve gotten sick of it, so it’s better this than that.

you give kota his order, put on a winning smile, and pray that he spares you from a headache.

he slams his payment on the counter. his money is always paper, never a bunch of coins as what kids his age usually have. it’s a little curious. it’s like he's making money himself.

“i’m your only customer anyway; what’s the big deal?” he gestures grandly at the space behind him, making a huffy noise when you don’t bother looking up from counting his change.

the big deal is that you don’t go around demanding baristas to do that, but kota has a point. he’s one of your only customers, aside from the lost students who order a medium coffee to use the bathroom. they never come back.

the shop you work in is tucked away in the corner of hosu city, past where the buses stop and far from train stations. it’s an unfortunate placement, but it’s safe from villain attacks because not even they would want to walk this far. kota only found it because he got lost, too, and you felt terrible so you gave him a donut.

the difference is he comes every day since then.

you level kota with a look. “how can i attract other customers if we’re blasting your awful playlist in this quiet space?”

his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. “my playlist is not bad! you should be thanking me i told deku about this place!”

“right, right. ‘cause you’re best friends with the lead of that super famous hero series! pardon me for forgetting.”

kota looks like a baby kitten hissing with his far-from-threatening growl. “you’re lucky the bagel tastes good,” he says and pointedly bites on the bread. “we would be enemies.”

you laugh, leaning against the counter. “how long did you say you’re staying at hosu for?”

“we’re leaving in two days.” kota looks longingly at the bagel.

“alright, well,” you bend closer and whisper conspiratorially, “let’s make a deal. come back here tomorrow one last time, and i’ll treat you the belgian waffle you’ve been eyeing since you first came here. if there’s no one else, i’ll play you your favorite song.”

kota’s eyes sparkle, despite his insistence on looking unaffected. “fine. i’ll come back.”

“tell mandalay i said hi!”

you thought that’d be the last interesting thing to happen, but minutes later, a young man with comically oversized sunglasses and a shirt saying ‘shirt’ enters the shop, looking around in amazement.

“welcome!” you call out with a customer-friendly grin. you’ve never seen this man, but based on his top, you can tell he’d entertain you well.

he pads over to the counter, somehow looking like a lost child despite his eye-pleasing build based on his thin, white tee. “good afternoon!” his smile is as warm as the orange lights hanging over the counter. “sorry, was kota here earlier?”

he reminds you of the man on kota’s wallpaper with a face that made you stare a little too long. kota asked you if you were struggling to read the time. no, you were just struggling not to blush. 

“you know him? he was chiding me for the lo-fi.”

he laughs, tugging his sunglasses up hesitantly. “kota can be really picky, sorry. um, i like the lo-fi.”

“you’re cute,” you say, admiring his green eyes. “what’s your name?”

“you don’t—” he blinks slowly, his cheeks darkening, “sorry, i didn’t mean it like i was assuming—”

“wait!” you exclaim, leaning closer to study his face, “are you kota’s brother or something? no, you don’t look like brothers… except for the shoe thing you have going on.” you gesture at his bright sneakers.

“i bought him that!” he says, smiling warmly. “midoriya izuku.”

“midoriya,” you say, grinning coyly when his cheeks flush as you say his name, “what can i get for you?”

he scratches the back of his neck. “regular iced latte, please.”

you make sure that it’s the best goddamn latte midoriya izuku drinks in his life so that he thinks of coming back again.

kota comes back the next day with a skip in his step, and a man right behind him.

“my favorite customer!” you already have his waffles prepared, but you weren’t informed that the handsome maybe-cousin, maybe-uncle, related-to-kota-somehow guy was coming along. immediately, you get to work on his latte.

“only customer,” kota says pointedly, scanning the room triumphantly. standing next to the cute guy with their matching shoes that makes them look more like close brothers that happened to not look similar in anywhere else possible.

“hey,” midoriya says with fond exasperation. “you can’t just say that.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “it’s alright. i know kota’s a sweet kid; he makes my day.” kota makes himself comfortable on the table nearest to the counter, looking much happier than he usually does coming here alone.

kota beams when you walk over and give him the plate of belgian waffles. he digs in the second he gets his hands on it. near him, midoriya chuckles, heading over to the counter. his outfit is a little different from last time: fancier and no more unnecessary captions.

“what can i get for you, midoriya?”

“regular iced latte, please,” he says, blinking up at you in a way that made your heart do something strange.

bingo. because of your headstart, his order comes in quickly, but you pretend to take it slower just to keep them longer.

“you don’t have to pay,” you say, unable to keep staring at how his coat makes him look charming. “i’m treating you two. are you also leaving hosu tomorrow?”

“i want to pay,” midoriya says, and you swear his smile gets wider when you head over to serve him his drink. “yeah, we have to leave for a shoot! it’ll take a while, but now i’m not looking forward to it as much as i was two days ago.” when you glance at him, he looks away, looking shy.

you couldn’t even react or analyze his second comment because you hone in on what the hell he means by—

“wait, shooting?”

“yes… for—wait, hold on.” midoriya frowns at kota, who has half a waffle hanging from his mouth. “i thought you said you weren’t hiding it.”

“i waf’n!” kota insists. midoriya tells him to please don’t speak while chewing, so he spits it out, and you watch in disgust as it flops back onto the plate. “y/n just doesn’t know! technically, i wasn’t hiding it.”

midoriya looks horrified, and this conversation is about you, so you ask, “can someone explain?”

midoriya is blushing, but he speaks as if he’s confessing a crime. “have you seen the hero series?”

“no! i’ve heard about it because kota likes this one guy a lot. think it was deku or something.”

“he’s deku, idiot!” kota says. “you know, the one who you said looked cute when i showed you my wallpaper!” he digs back in on his waffle, pouring more syrup.

“what!?” you and midoriya exclaim.

“why would you say that?” you groan at the same time midoriya asks, “you said that?” wide-eyed and grinning.

“go back to the topic at hand!” you slam your hands on the table. kota’s intense EDM music is blasting, fueling you even more. “why didn’t i— deku’s face is literally on billboards!”

“my face in those is usually covered by the mask, to be fair,” adds midoriya meekly. “but kota-kun is my co-worker…”

“what!”

“you’re just stupid,” kota says, grinning devilishly. “we’re flying out of hosu to film together somewhere else.”

“oh my god.”

midoriya laughs, gazing at you with an intensity that makes your throat feel dry. “it’s not your fault, y/n-san.” he nudges kota, who’s stealing sips on his latte and grimacing. “it’s his for pranking you.”

“and,” midoriya adds, smiling shyly, “it was… nice to know you’re interested in me even without knowing who i was.”

kota hums around the straw, “maybe this’ll finally convince y/n to watch the series.”

ok um the ending is lame i know but i rlly didnt know what 2 do w this LMFAO also dont judge idk what baristas do so just play along. mayb ill make a part 2 cus theres a lot unpacked but not rn i just want to let anon know i didnt delete this ask thx for reading rb or comment to make me happy omg!

[preservationofnormalcy]

Guess who’s baaa-aaaack~!

It’s your favorite reporter, Normster! Or Jennster, I’m not picky! Io’s back, tell a friend. Not bothering you all, am I? Heh!

That Perdition report did NOT blow over well with the older generation, but hey, people get stuck in their ways! Stick it to ‘em! Anyway- Nothing-to-Fearers (that can’t be our name) around my age appreciated the clue-in, so I gotta thank Norm again!

But I wouldn’t be here just to thank you, you know me! Pencil and paper in hand (or in this case, Google Docs) and waiting for a new story!

So! This site of yours down here - Besides dealing with those guys over in Arizona, you probably know about this town outside of the ‘weird town names’ Wikipedia page, right? There’s plenty of weird shit out here, the name’s very ironic. I’ve seen it to believe it. You’re right, I’m a lil’ bit new here, so hey! Any local history I should know about?

- Io Mason (She/They), KLRT 108.6

People should know about what they’re getting into if they live/move near Perdition, Arizona, even if people don’t want to talk about it.

I haven’t been to Nothing-To-Fear, myself, but I know of it. An Uncanny Valley community in Nevada, “uncanny valley” here being a term for small extranormal communities that pop up across the country. Usually the entire population is extranormal in the some way or at least knows about it. Glamours are typically totally optional if not outright frowned upon. I remember the motto for Vender’s Gamble, Tennessee being “come as you are,” and they mean it. Typically they’re small and rural, and thus kind of …underprivileged, but there’s exceptions like Jackdaw in Washington State. Very rich planned community there.

I’m trying to choose my words carefully. A lot of uncanny valley communities are insular, and have a distrust or dislike of outsiders and especially the Office. Sometimes this is because of unfortunate events in history, and in those cases I don’t blame them.

In Nothing-To-Fear’s case, I don’t see a lot in my records to indicate we’ve done much aside from our nearby site in Arizona to keep an eye on Perdition. We’ve had a hands-off policy with a lot of uncanny valleys lately, so that’s not super surprising.

Hmm. Aren’t you guys the ones that were founded by six clones of the same person in the 50’s?

[vixen525noms]

Defying Certain Death Part 20

Dual posted to my DeviantArt account, a non-sexual G/T vore story featuring adults along the lines of the lion and the thorn fable. There will be tons of hurt/comfort aspects, lots of safe vore. That is the primary focus in this.

Barrett is an adult giant standing 85ft tall and Hope is an adult human at 5ft 6. Barrett does not eat children at any point. 

Warnings: Fighting; Fatal Mention; Characters in Distress

Future and Previous: While this part has no fatalities, future parts include fatal vore and violence. Barrett, the giant, is not a good guy, so will be doing some occasional bad things.

Editor: @vore-scientist

Picture | First | Previous | Next

Since what happened with the thieves, Barrett did not like being away from camp for long. He didn’t like the idea of Hope being vulnerable or at risk, but taking care of her during her illness hadn’t let him hunt as frequently as usual. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but she also clearly didn’t like seeing when he ate humans, and he suspected she would react similarly to seeing him eat any other sort of small folk. But he needed food, and going hungry longer than usual meant he couldn’t afford to be picky. Which unfortunately meant leaving Hope at camp and hoping the smell of a syor living there would scare off most things. At least today had been a good hunt. A nice moose was caught, not a common find, and large enough to be rather filling. He paused on his walk back and his ears flicked as he heard an unfamiliar male voice. And he dropped his catch and charged forward. He flicked up the tertiary eyelid organ to see past the trees…something larger than Hope was at their camp. His feet moved with instinct before thoughts even formed. 

Another predator was in camp. Another predator was with his Hope.

“MINE!”

-----Earlier....-----

Hope was rather startled when a large naga, standing probably about 25 ft tall or a tad shorter, came through the trees. He had long curly hair that was so intensely black it was as if dipped in ink, but there were streaks of gray despite no other outward signs of great age.. From his vibrant blue coloration, and his thick build, he wasn't one of the native varieties. She wondered if his kind, like native nagas, had the potential to be dangerous predators. He very well could be, but if he was, he wasn't hunting her, instead he smiled warmly, “Hello there! I think I got a bit lost. Can you tell me where I am?”

Still, she was a bit wary. This could be a trick. And yet… How long had it been since she’d talked to someone? “I haven’t seen nagas your size in this area before. Too close to a syor settlement for them to thrive.”

The naga paused, considering, “Then I must be very far off track... May I sit here?” he asked as he gestured near where she sat on the shore of the lake.

 Hope nodded, “I don’t mind... but you may not want to stay long. There’s a syor in the area, and I doubt he would react well to you.”

The naga nodded in return, then curled up in a seated position near her before reassuring her and introducing himself, “That’s alright. I’m quite confident I can handle myself. I’ve studied quite a bit of magic. I’m Taevis by the way.”

The potential overconfidence didn't do much to assuage Hope’s concerns. But they had just started talking and it was going so well, and Barrett was probably still hunting decently far away. “I’m Hope. You say you studied magic but didn’t mention the college... Did you study somewhere else? Like I heard there’s places of study on the far continent... I hope you are right about being able to defend yourself from a syor. He will come back for me... so far doesn’t seem to intend to eat me, but that could probably change at any time... but he definitely isn’t going to let me run off. He left me here while he went to hunt, you can see the tent he uses right over there. If you want, I have a pretty good idea of the direction of the nearest syorian town. They can help you get your bearings there.”

Taevis listened attentively to her, frowning a bit at her ramblings. “If you want me to leave that badly, I can head off... but I was enjoying your company. I’ve been wandering lost for a while now.”

Hope’s eyes widened as she realized her rudeness and she shook her head vigorously, “Oh I definitely love the company. Since that syor has decided to... I don’t know... keep me? I haven’t had much chance to speak to people. Mostly just him, and that’s mostly me hoping every day that he doesn’t change his mind about keeping me alive. I just worry about your safety is all. If you are that confident you can defend yourself, I really do love having someone to talk to. I’ve missed it.”

Taevis’ face flushed slightly, “I don’t intend to scare, but I’m pretty confident I’m one of the most dangerous things around! I’d be far more worried about being lost than about the syor. But even if I’m dangerous, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m really glad to have run into someone so helpful to a stranger!”

 “I like to help people... but my desire to help others has gotten me in trouble a few times,” Hope chuckled nervously, “Like the fact these days I rarely get to see or talk to anyone. Last time he found a traveler, he just ate them. Can’t exactly have a conversation if the person immediately becomes food... And it’s not like I can have much conversation with the syor... I’m still not sure how long he’s going to keep me around before I end up like that traveler.” Hope shrugged and took a deep breath , “But nothing I can do about it, so at the very least I can be kind to the first person I’ve had a proper conversation with in... I’m not even sure how long anymore. Two months? Three?”

Taevis considered her words then smiled down at Hope, “You could always come with me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t go around eating travelers, at least. I have no real idea where I’m going at the moment, but it sounds better than staying here!”

Hope sighed even deeper and tried to laugh but it came out wrong, “That’s very kind of you, but I guarantee the syor won’t let me go. But until he comes back, if you want, I have plenty of food. He’s been taking everything the travelers carry, and the amount of food... it’ll go bad before I could ever eat it all. It’s in that cart over there. As for directions... following the lake shore that way will lead to a river. There’s a town just upstream,” she pointed in the direction of the town. 

This new revelation surprised Taevis, “He eats travelers and makes you use their stuff? That’s kind of fucked up! And it seems a proper comb hasn’t been in those supplies. How about I help you with your hair a bit, since you’ve helped me with my problem of being lost?”and he pulled a human sized comb from one of the pouches at his waist.

Now it was Hope’s turn to be surprised, and she nodded hesitantly. She tensed up when he put his hands around her to pick her up and set her on his coils, if he was hunting her she was now in his clutches. At least she knew Barrett would avenge her. Then her fear melted away as the comb went through her hair.  The strong but delicate hands held her secure and though the comb pulled a bit, it felt nice rather than painful. She didn't even flinch when he took out a knife to cut the dead ends. How long had it been since someone had been gentle with her?

Hope was so relaxed she didn't hear Taevis ask her about her life before ending up in her current situation. He had to repeat the question. Now she genuinely smiled, not a shred of discomfort left, “I had a beautiful farm... I actually came out this way to get some new...”

“MINE!”

The roar came as Barrett charged out of the trees.

The naga hissed and slithered back rapidly and held himself tall, knife in one hand, and with the other… Well he tried to put Hope behind him, to protect the vulnerable human. But she ran out and stood between the two monsters. 

Hope was determined to defuse the situation without bloodshed, and she knew Barrett’s first instinct would be to grab her, though she was worried that Taevis would attack as she was lifted up by the syor. Thankfully he didn’t. And more thankfully, Barrett, who was running on pure possessive instinct, didn't crack any ribs snatching her up. 

With Hope in hand Barrett’s eyes looked down upon the naga, taking its smaller size and making quick judgments as to how dangerous it may be. His predator calculations worked quickly to give him an answer. “Looks like I don’t need to hunt anymore…”

A deeper hiss, almost a growl, came from the naga, “Listen, syor. I did not come seeking a fight, but it will not go well if you press the issue.” 

Barrett growled lower, “You were messing with something that belongs to me. I know you could smell I have been here a while and she is mine. Besides, I still need a meal.”

“I recommend hunting elsewhere,” Taevis warned, eyes flashing.

Barrett smirked, confident as he extended his claws, “But I just found something large enough I won’t have to hunt for a few days… Why would I walk away from such a substantial meal?”

The naga exhaled a cloud of frosty mist, intending the elemental magic to be sufficient warning and make it clear to this syor that physical size won’t win this fight. A miscalculation on his part, the syor charged forward and slashed with his claws. The unexpected stupidity caught Taevis off guard and he felt pain as the claws made contact. Then the lightning Taevis had been preparing struck Barrett’s arm, making the syor jerk back as his skin burned and muscles seized with electricity and pain. 

Barrett hesitated to charge again, his predator brain re-calculating. While a large meal was good, getting Hope away from this other predator was top priority. It was time to leave, or convince the naga to leave. Cursing from the pain of the attack he spat at the naga, “What the fuck… nagas don’t do that… Just… get out of here. I’ll just eat the human.”

Taevis let out a very un-naga-like growl, “I was afraid you’d say that,” and lunged forward with another bolt of electricity. At the same time Barrett pulled a dagger from his waist, snarling. 

Barrett charged again, slashing the dagger at the naga’s face and cutting him across the cheek. This time he knew he lacked the element of surprise, and making contact with the knife wasn't his true goal. As Taevis moved away Barrett anticipated the direction and kicked at the naga’s serpent body, punting it into the lake. It landed with a satisfying splash and Barrett allowed himself a self congratulatory purr. Until the surface of the lake bulged, a hill as large as himself made of water rose up, and broke. 

Instead of a naga emerging from the water, a horned humanoid that was, to Barrett's acute dismay, well over a head taller than he was. Horns curved back on the head, bluish silver scales visible on the cheeks under the gash from the dagger. Decorative metal decorated the horns as well as earrings and even gold cuffs on the draconic wings spreading behind him. A long reptilian tail, adorned with those silver scales and fins on the end lashed back and forth creating waves taller than Hope in the water. True vicious talons on the hands made Barrett suddenly aware of his own less substantial retractable claws. A demidragon. Offspring or descended from true dragons, and no less dangerous than the full blooded sort.

The demidragon stepped out of the lake, clawed feet furrowing the damp ground, and Barrett struggled to not show apprehension as Taevis spread his wings to further emphasize his superior size. Barrett was determined to deny Taevis the satisfaction and showing any fear. And Barrett was afraid… but Hope was his and only his, so he tightened his grip on his blade, and held Hope to his chest. “Just leave! I won’t let you take her!” Focusing on his own abilities, Barrett decided to demonstrate the magic syor did have. He flung the dagger, using his natural magic to shoot it towards Taevis’ wing joint. But the demidragon, with an agonizingly casual motion, blocked it with an arm.

With his focus split between his dagger and his Hope, even his quick reflexes failed as Taevis quickly turned his thick tail, sweeping Barrett’s feet out from under him, followed by a horrible loud THUMP and CRACK as Barrett landed on his back. “Don’t you fucking touch Hope! I’ll cut your throat!” His voice broke with fear instead of aggression as he tried the knife again, flinging it wildly at Taevis. 

Having announced the second attack, Taevis was easily able to grab the dagger from mid-air. He ignored the blood dripping from his palm and electricity crackled through his hand, heating the knife white hot and deforming it in the shape of his grip.

Taevis let it drop as he stepped forward, placed a heavy clawed foot on Barrett's chest, knelt down, and got his talons around the wrist which held Hope. Barrett’s eyes narrowed and he growled, “I’ll bite your throat out! I won’t let you take her!” 

Taevis ignored him and spoke words that Barrett did not recognize, summoning gleaming magic that wrapped rapidly around the syor. Once the syor was thoroughly immobilized, Taevis growled, “You want to eat her. I’m not going to let that happen.” He pressed his talons into the soft underflesh of Barrett's wrist and with his other hand pried open Barretts fist. It wasn't that hard, the syor was not crushing the human; not that surprising since they like them alive and squirming after all. 

Barrett snarled at the demidragon, “Like I would actually eat the woman who saved my life!” 

That piqued Taevis’ interest and against his better judgment he let the syor continue to breathe and speak. 

“But saying that makes other syor back off so I thought it would work with other predators!” 

Taevis studied the syor’s expression, thinking. He wasn’t from this region, but had heard from travelers that syor were unusually honest, unless deceit was needed for extreme situations. Keeping a human was not an extreme situation.. Protecting kin, mates, and other giants that were close might qualify and thus force abnormally honest creature to lie… But he did not have enough experience with the species to be sure. 

“Hmm… Do not try to get loose from your bindings.” He moved to open his own hand that had taken Hope from the syor, holding her on upturned palm to try to make her feel less restrained, “Hope, is what he saying true? He threatened to rip my throat out… which was… unexpected.” He could see Hope was nervous with his larger size, so he further adjusted his hold and she relaxed a bit more. 

It still took a moment for her to find her voice, “I… did save his life. That’s what I meant by helping others ending badly… I was about to tell you before he showed up… and… he has said he’ll eat me to another syor who tried to grab me once… but I’ve never been sure if saving his life was enough that he wouldn’t change his mind about keeping me alive…” 

Barrett was surprised by the last part of what Hope said, “I was half starved after you spent weeks freeing me from that rockslide and I didn’t kill you then! Why would I kill you now when I’m not half starved to death?”

In an attempt to reassure Hope, Taevis cupped his hand slightly to provide a cage of talons between her and the syor. His eyes flashed as he glared at Barrett, “I was speaking to the young woman. I am not going to trust you until she corroborates your claims… Besides, can‘t hardly blame her with your kind’s reputation.”

To Taevis’ surprise, Hope peeked over his hand to look at Barrett, “Your kind is notorious for having no regard for human life, and the way you have been hunting travelers makes it clear that hasn’t changed!” her harsh expression turned to surprise as she heard her own torrent of words. She sighed, sitting down on Taevis’s palm as she considered what else her new… friend? captor? wanted to know, “I… I don’t know. I’ve been stuck with him this long and… I just don’t know. He acts sorta nice, for a syor I guess… but also won’t let me leave… It didn't exactly help matters when he tortured and ate my father right in front of me…”

Barrett’s ears twitched at the mention of her father, “I do not regret eating your father. When I brought him back because he smelled like you, the look of pure fear on your face at the sight of him made it clear what I had to do.”

“Should I give you two some privacy?” Taevis narrowed his eyes, “Or perhaps it is my having her safe from you that allows such a discussion…” His tone softened a bit, “If so can at least get more comfortable…?”

Barrett let out a deep hissing sigh, “Hope barely says a word to me these days. The last time she has said this much was when I was trapped under those rocks. I do not like these restraints and I do not like you touching what’s mine… But Hope is actually talking to me for once.”

Hope looked down briefly as she thought about the situation, then at the hand around her, then up at Taevis before looking back down, “Well… a demidragon is strong enough that if you did lose your temper, you couldn’t hurt me…” She turned her eyes to meet Taevis’s, “Please don’t leave me alone with him…” 

Taevis nodded, “Well then, Hope… if you are confident enough in my protection, would you mind if I released his restraints before I lose feeling in my knees? I won’t leave, and I won’t set you down until you are ready.” Hope took some time to consider and nodded. Taevis gestured and released the magic restraining Barrett however hee tensed in preparation as Barrett sat up.“I recommend sitting near the lake, the cool water will ease the electrical burns.”

Barrett hesitated, his instincts to care for his wounds at war with his aversion to moving even a few steps further away from Hope. Finally the pain won and he knelt by the water to soak his wrist.

 Hope expressed a bit of surprise, “You burned Barrett?”she glanced back at his tail again. 

Taevis only glanced briefly at hope, keeping focused on Barrett, “So that’s his name? And yes. While my tail may have the fins of the oceanic dragons, I’m a mix of silver and oceanic..” -

Hope nodded as she thought over that explanation, “That explains the lightning. I’ve met silver dragons and demidragons before. Even had some visit my farm on occasion.” 

Taevis smiled slightly, “I heard some of my kind live around this continent, but I actually traveled here from quite far away, This is my first encounter with one of his kind” meaning syor, “I’d heard stories of these ‘evil giants that treat smaller races as food’. I thought it might be an exaggeration, but he has proven me wrong.” He turned to look at Barrett with a slight glare, “I now suspect you could tell I wasn’t threatening her and you were using ‘protection’ as an excuse to make a meal of me before you knew what I am. With that kind of behavior, I don’t blame her for fearing a change of heart!”

Barrett gave a snort, “You aren’t her. She’s special. She spent weeks saving my life, so I intend to protect her. You were a potential meal. Good meat ain’t always easy to find.”

Taevis thought for a moment as he calmed, “While I understand protecting those you care about, and getting a nice treat as a bonus… that doesn’t seem to be what you were actually doing. It is curious that you would act as if it was…I heard syor aren’t big on deception, and the only one you would be deceiving is Hope… meaning.”

Taevis waited to see if Barrett would continue and when he didn’t, “Meaning… you do care about not upsetting her enough to go against your normal straightforward nature.”

Barrett grumbled under his breath a bit. Clearly unhappy with the implication he was being dishonest in some way, but also not outright denying it. It was true that syor tended to be true to their word and not all that inclined to lie. Occasionally lying to give false hope to humans they caught, that he had done. But that’s not what Taevis was talking about. Protecting a human’s feelings was simply not done. “Still not happy about you touching Hope…”

Hope frowned, “I don’t see what the big deal is, he’s been very kind and friendly.”

Taevis rolled his eyes, “and Yet at you do seem happy that she is more open to talking. But perhaps you will be in a more amicable mood after having some food.”

Barrett gave a slight snort, “Well the bull moose I killed before I saw you is enough for me and Hope.”

This, for reasons Barrett couldn’t understand but Taevis could, angered Hope, “Wait, you were successful at hunting, but you still tried to eat a naga?” 

Barrett shrugged, “Bull moose is a meal for one day, naga is a meal for several.” 

Taevis glanced around the campsite, “I don’t see anything for you to prepare the moose… Where is your cooking fire?” 

Barrett rolled his eyes, “Why would I waste time cooking it? The only reason I didn’t eat it immediately was to see if Hope wanted some.”

Taevis pinched his nose, “You are saying that all these piles of supplies and you don’t even prepare proper meals for yourself? No wonder you are so scrawny and hungry.” He surveyed the piles, “Hope will never use the supplies before they go bad, so why not combine the moose with some veggies that are about to go bad and make something that will last both of us a couple days?”

Barrett was rather confused at the suggestion, “Mix the meat… with something else? You mean like the syorian do? I’m not a wimpy syorian. I don’t do that. I hunt like any proper syor.”

The look of astonishment on Taevis’ face made Barrett uncomfortable, and Taevis’ response didn’t help “You.. aren’t familiar with cooking…” he said with concern before grinning with all his teeth. A mouth full of vicious fangs. “Well I happen to be a very good cook. It will keep it from going bad and be much more filling.”

Hope piped up, “There’s a ton of metal cookware in the carts! If we combine all the metal we have we can make a great pan to cook with! Oh I would love to share some recipes! I wonder if they would turn out as good when done at such a large size…”

Barrett was taken aback by Hope’s boldness and excitement about the prospect of cooking yet he was still hesitant. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not, “You want me to do what syorians do with food…”

Taevis arched a brow as he looked at Barrett again, “Like demidragons do. Like many scaly dragons do. You aren’t saying your kind are better than dragons, are you?” he flashed his teeth again. 

Barrett frowned and looked away, not sure how to respond. Taevis stood. “I’m going to go find that dead moose. You keep soaking that hand. Hope seems to want to stay by me at the moment, but we will remain close, I can smell it is just beyond those trees.”

Barrett gave a slight snarl, “I don’t like you having my Hope… But she…” his words faltered so instead he growled, “Try to steal her and demidragon or not I will hunt you down.”

With a shrug of his wings Taevis turned to walk back into the woods, and hoped to have a private conversation with Hope before their return to the clearing, assuming the syor stayed by the lake to soak the burn. 

Picture | First | Previous | Next

[saturnxlust]

Jake Webber x Hispanic reader

🇲🇽💗

Please i swear im so bad at answering asks, im so sorry😭 im not that good at oneshots so im gonna do headcannons😔✊

Jake Webber x Hispanic!Reader

Hes cultured, okay

His nickname with johnnie is literally the tinas

He will eat your cooking or your moms cooking no matter how much pain this mans in

If you like the latina makeup he will actually convulse because of how hot you are☺️

He eats a lot of things, unlike johnnie hes not very picky, so all the food at a party is being eaten by him🥲

If your mom puts more on his plate like seconds or desert you bet your ass he will be shoveling that into his mouth and groaning at how good it is

And unfortunately hes one of those guys that goes “babe, babe you gotta try this” and adds more onto your plate like you haven’t been eating this food for years😭

You watched him practically run up to you gushing about how good it is, “babe oh my god have you tried this?” He asks as he holds up a fork offering the food to you.

Him combined with your mom/grandparents you will not go hungry at those partys

Now if you cook? Hes head over heels cause what

I want someone cooking that bomb ass hispanic food for me😢

Be aware he groans when the foods good, everything will be silent until you hear a “ghdjdicicii ITS SO GOOD” muffled by whatever he shoved in his mouth

Hes not that messy of an eater usually but he is the cleanest infront of your family, cleaning up after himself and being all polite and stuff

If it was up to him he’d marry you on the spot when you first make him food

While he shoved the food into his mouth he hummed happily, looking up at you to give you a lovesick look, as he chewed he thought to himself if it was too soon to get on one knee and marry you, deciding against it because he doesnt have a ring and, you deserve the best he could get

Idk what he would do without you

Probably starve or eat fast food every night, much to your dismay

Before you he got so much fast food you almost smacked him when he wanted to go to wendys as a date

Since then its either been a mexican restaurant, your house, or your parents house for food

[rottngdeer]

Bloodsuckers — 2

Pairings || Hannibal Lecter x Vampire!Female!Reader

Part 2/?

Contents/Warnings || Blood drinking, manipulation, talks of cannibalism, murder, and starvation

Part 3 is here

Hannibal took notice of Will's behaviour around you. He was attached; especially attentive when you spoke, stood by your side wherever you went, eyes on you constantly. He decided that he would invite the two of you to his latest dinner party to observe a little closer. He needed to see if Will knew about tour secret, or if this was something else he had to deal with. The two of you arrived together around 7. Will was wearing one of his grey suits, looking uncomfortable being around so many people already; and you, wearing black heels and a long black dress that hugged your body just right.

“Always nice to see the two of you outside of work,” Hannibal approached. Will didn’t say anything, too busy looking around at the food with a look of faint disgust. You smile at Hannibal, “Same to you.” You and Hannibal hadn’t been alone since a few nights ago when he declared that he knew your secret, and he confessed that he was the Chesapeake Ripper. You wondered if he invited you to this party to talk to you about what he wanted to do next. Unfortunately you didn’t get much time to speak to him since several people approached you to say hello and have small talk throughout the night.

But Hannibal was watching you. Will didn’t leave your side, and you did the usual mingling and pretending to eat solid food when in reality you just mushed it around and only took small bites to not seem suspicious. When Will walked off eventually to use the bathroom and you were finally alone, Hannibal took his chance.

You felt his hand on your lower back, “Is Will aware of your… age?“ He asked quietly in your ear from behind, asking the question in a simple way in case anyone heard. You sigh in reply, “As far as I know… Will thinks I’m turning 33 next month. 33 and no older. Then again, you found out and I didn’t know until you told me.“

“Do you plan on telling him?”

“Do you think I should?”

“No. But judging by the way he doesn’t leave your side, I wouldn’t be surprised if he found out somehow. Are the two of you dating? I should be aware of any relationships you may have. “

“No, and you have no right to know about my— “

Hannibal cuts you off, “We can’t let anything effect our arrangement.“

“I barely know what our arrangement is. You haven’t exactly explained much yet.”

“I will explain it soon enough.” With that, he walked off to talk to other guests. You set down your plate of food and walk upstairs, knowing no one else would be there. Will had just come out of the bathroom and saw you, so he immediately went after you. You had found and sat down in an empty room and stared out the window. What the hell did you get yourself into?

“Are you okay?“ Will asked as he closed the doors behind him.

You sigh, “I’m fine.“

Will sat down beside you on the small couch, thigh to thigh touching. “You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

You smile weakly at him, “I’m fine. Just… stressed I guess.”

“Because of Jack pushing us about the Ripper cases?”

“Yes,” You lied, “ I’ll be fine, I'll probably just go back downstairs and get some food. Whatever weird French thing Hannibal whipped up.”

“We both know that neither of us really like that stuff.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell you only push around your food no matter what it is. You just poke around with food so it looks like you did. And if you actually eat some, you never seem to like it.”

You smiled a little, “ Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’m… picky.”

Will nodded a little, “Right.”

“Well… we should head back down before anyone misses us.”

Will followed you back downstairs, and the two of you mostly just wandered the party talking quietly to each other until people trickled out.

“I’m going to stick around for a little while, I need to speak to Hannibal about something,” You told Will.

“Do you want me to wait outside for you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I don’t know how long it’ll take anyways. “

“See you soon then?”

You nodded and gave him a small smile before he left. You let out a small sigh as you walked into the kitchen, finding Hannibal pouring himself a glass of wine.

“I have something for you,” He said, without even looking up at you. You watched as he took out a bottle of crimson red liquid. As he opened it and poured it into a wine glass, your pupils dilated and your senses heightened. Blood.

Hannibal walked up to you holding his wine and your blood. “Enjoy it,” He handed you your glass. You took the glass, taking a shirt sniff of the blood before drinking it. You eyed Hannibal as you did. When you finished a few gulps, you stopped. “Thank you… for whatever kind of bribe this is.”

“It is a small look into what I could give you all the time.”

“You think I can’t feed myself.”

“No. But I also know that you can’t keep swiping people off the streets or you’ll get caught. Especially if you leave the bodies around and don’t hide them properly.”

“Would you rather I set them up like art pieces as you do?”

“I’d rather we work together finding people— and you help me with my little ‘art pieces’. And in return you get your fill of blood as I get my fill of meat. There’s less of a possibility you get caught if you work with me.”

“Why do you suddenly need help? Seems like you’ve been doing fine all on your own.”

“I can see something in you. There’s more urges that you hide behind your basic instinctual need for blood. I want to help you, you just have to let me.”

“What if I don’t agree to any of this?”

Hannibal gave you a small smile, “Then you can guarantee the next time the Ripper kills, you’ll be framed for it. I’m sure you’d be very bored in prison. And I’m guessing eventually you may die of starvation. If you were to survive the entire prison sentence people would be suspicious on how you haven’t aged. Then you’ll spend forever as a science experiment, wasting away. Unless of course, you agree to help me.”

He took a sip of his wine while keeping eye contact with you, waiting for your agreement.

“When do we start?”

[ellesliterarycorner]

Writing a Retelling

I used to not like reading or writing retellings, but I actually think that writing a retelling might be on my bingo card for 2023, so I decided to do some research on writing them and share it with y’all! I think the reason I used to dislike retellings was because they can go SO wrong, and they are really hard to write. But, the more I’ve looked into this, I’ve decided writing retellings is actually a really good exercise for writers. The world’s been around for so long that there are no completely new plots, and taking the essentials plots of one story and turning them into something new is a great exercise in the basics of plotting and understanding the nature of characters. 

Back to the OG

Read the original story! That might seem like an obvious thing, but sometimes it doesn’t feel every author remembers to do this. If it’s a story you haven’t read since you were little, don’t rely on your memory, especially if its a story with a lot of different remakes. Are you writing a retelling of the Disney movie Cinderella or the original Greek folk tale? Spoiler alert, they are not the same. You can write a retelling of either, but you do need to decide early on which one you are doing and stay consistent to it. I also think rereading the original story will remind you why you decided to write a retelling. Something about the story you loved so much you wanted to bring to a new audience or maybe something that felt unfinished or unanswered, and you just had to finish it and find the answered. 

Notes, Notes, Notes

I love taking notes, and I think that especially when writing a retelling copious notes are your best friend. Unfortunately, you aren’t going to be able to fit everything into your retelling, but writing notes on the most important things in the original story will help you have a guiding light and keep you organized. I would definitely recommend that you make a list of characters and their roles in the story. Are you keeping the same protagonist? Do you want to write from the antagonists point of view? Or give a side character their time to shine? I would also make a list of all of the settings in the story. Decide whether or not you’re keeping the same setting or revamping it for your story. Finally, make a list of all the major plot points. You’ll probably add more plot points into your story, but making sure that you know and understand the major plot points in the original story will help you as you’re writing. 

Inspired By or Retelling?

This may just be a personal nit-picky, schematic thing, but imo, a book can be inspired by something without being a retelling. Point and case being my favorite book to bash: A Court of Thorns and Roses. People have stopped leaning on this as much as they used too (mostly because ACOTAR has been rebranded as adult), but when it first came out ACOTAR was very much marketed as a Beauty and the Beast retelling. Me personally, I did not realize it was supposed to be a retelling until one of my friends told me after I had read it. Now, that either means that I have a poor level of reading comprehension or that the book is not a very good retelling. Obviously, I don’t like one of those answers, so let us presume that ACOTAR is not a very good retelling. I would say agree that elements of it are inspired by Beauty and the Beast, but I do not think that it is a retelling. SJM fails to keep many of the major themes and motifs of Beauty and the Beast which I think are necessary elements to qualify under the label retelling. 

But What’s the Twist???

Don’t be afraid to take risks and try new things when you write a retelling! Just because you’re writing a retelling doesn’t mean that you aren’t writing a story in your voice and your style of writing. Stay true to yourself, so long as you treat the original story with respect. A lot of retellings either give the story a new protagonist, a new setting, or set the story in a completely different genre. To get yourself going here are are a few questions to ask yourself after you’ve finished rereading the original story help you figure out what the twist of your retelling is going to be. 

Which of these characters do you feel curious about?

Which of these characters is the most hated / misunderstood?

Which of these characters could have the most interesting growth / character transformation through the course of this story?

How would this setting affect the protagonist and the other main characters? 

How would this setting affect the major conflict of the story?

How would this setting affect the themes of the original story? 

Which themes would be preserved and which themes would no longer feel relevant?

Elle’s Retelling Recommendations

And of course, I had to end this with a few retellings recommendations! Reading other retellings and seeing what other authors did well or not well is a great way to sharpen your own skills. 

Daughters of Sparta by Claire Heywood

I actually really liked this book, but I think its because even though I like Greek mythology, I admittedly am not the most knowledgable on the subject. I know the basics of Greek mythology, but unless something was blatantly wrong, I wouldn’t be able to tell. Apparently, this book had a lot of important Greek mythology plot points missing, but I thought it told the stories of Helen and Klytemnestra very well!

Circe and The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller 

I first read Circe for school, but I went back and read it a year or two ago. I vastly prefer Circe to Song of Achilles as I didn’t really like SoA all that much, but both are definitely retelling masterclasses. Madeline Miller is definitely the Queen of Greek mythology retellings.

Beautiful Little Fools by Jillian Cantor 

This is one of my favorite books ever! I loved the Great Gatsby, and I am a Daisy Buchanan apologist. I love that this book fleshes out all of the female characters from the Great Gatsby, gives them proper back stories and answers one of the biggest questions from the original novel. 

Starcrossed by Josephine Angelini

This book is not the best book, and I only recommend it because it is in my opinion how not to do a retelling or even an inspired by book. My friend group was obsessed with this book in middle school, and the best way I can describe it is if Percy Jackson and Twilight had a baby. Take that as you will. 

[lo-wrote]

The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five Part of The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five, a semi-autobiographical series on dating in my late 20's. WC: 2k

“Wait, so how old are you again?”

He asks me this as he shoves another piece of sushi roll in his gaping maw, a chunk of rice falling onto the table.

“I’m twenty-eight,” I smile, carefully dipping my gyoza into a puddle of soy sauce, pausing before I take a bite because I suspect another question or comment will come.

“Ah, right right—you’re on the wrong side of twenty-five.” He lets out a guffaw at this and seems to expect me to do the same.

“You’ll be there soon enough, dipshit,” I want to say to the twenty-four year old that sits before me. Instead, I say nothing. I hum and offer him a tight-lipped smile in return and sip my water. He doesn’t seem to notice my disdain for that comment, as he takes a long sip of his beer.

He seemed nice enough in his profile, if not a little bland. He was blond and blue-eyed and had the sort of face that looked like a hundred other decent-looking faces. At this point, I was mostly speedrunning dating, trying to catch up after spending my late teens and early twenties shackled to the same, shitty person, so I wasn’t necessarily being particularly discriminatory at times. Sure, I swiped right or hit match or whatever the fuck I did on five different apps to say “Hey, we should meet and/or fuck,” and most of the time I was selective, narrowing my choices down to my ideal, since I could finally have the chance to meet and/or fuck exactly my type if I really tried hard enough and believed in myself and the power of mutual attraction.

But sometimes, I wasn’t picky. Sometimes I just wanted to go on a date, and have lunch with someone or walk around a mall with someone. Sometimes I just wanted a warm, breathing body to stand next to and order a cup of coffee. It’s like interviewing for a job you aren’t really that interested in just to get interview experience—if it works out and you get hired, that’s pretty great, but if you don’t, it wasn’t the point anyway.

When I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Mister Tall, Blonde, and Acceptably Attractive, he was already waiting outside the restaurant, hands in pockets, looking a mix of nervous and bored. He rushed to hug me as I barely popped up onto the sidewalk, and I immediately froze—I’m not hug-averse, but you have to approach me gently, carefully, like trying to walk up to a wild bird to take its photo, lest I fly away in an anxious huff. Unfortunately, I cannot fly away with the grip this man has on me, so I give a few weak pats to his back to signal it’s time to let go.

We sit down and he says this is one of his favorite spots, he just doesn’t get to it often. He suggests a couple of starters, recommends a few rolls that he particularly likes. He’s talked from the second we broke that god-awful hug and hasn’t stopped yet; I haven’t even really offered my opinion or said, well, much of anything.

The server comes and asks if she can get us some drinks. He orders two beers and rattles off the food order as she scrambles for a pad of paper in her back pocket, then thanks her and returns to telling me about himself—where he works (a bakery), how many siblings he has (three), and how long he’s been on the dating apps (a few months, just to try something new, you know?).

“Did you order a beer for me, or...?” I interrupt.

“Well, yeah, duh,” he says, like I’m a silly little dumb-dumb baby brain. “Beer and sushi are, like, the best.”

I furrow my brow. This is the opportunity to recognize that you were very forward and maybe should have asked, bud. “Oh, but I didn’t want beer.”

“Why not?”

Because I don’t like drinking on first dates if I can avoid it. Because it’s the middle of the day and I have things to do. Because I don’t fucking like beer, why can’t anybody get this through their heads that it’s not a universal thing to like beer?

“I would just prefer tea is all.”

“Well it’s fine, I’ll drink it,” he adds without missing a beat, and carries on talking about the car he’s working on rebuilding. I never do get to order that tea.

And so this is how lunch goes. He talks about himself, I occasionally add a few anecdotes of my own when he’s busy chewing, and that’s when he reminds me that I’m over twenty-five and basically a withered old crone who should probably wander off into the swamps and never be seen again by the eyes of man. I just want to leave, but it doesn’t feel egregious enough to make it a problem.

Does it?

In the grand scheme of dating fails, it’s certainly not the worst that could happen. He’s not downright cruel, just clueless and self-centered, as most of us are in our early twenties. With a few reminders and gentle prods and nudges, I’m sure he could change his behavior and maybe—maybe—think about what he says before he blurts it out. But that’s not something I’d like to take on at this stage of my life. I’m done, for the moment, trying to educate men on how to act on dates, done putting up guard rails to guide them into more acceptable behavior.

I’m not a mother, I’m not a teacher, I’m not a life coach. I’m looking for a turn-key ready man, not a fixer-upper. (I say this now, of course, without the foresight that I will eventually find myself a man who was basically an opossum eating out of a dumpster, and I will clean him up and socialize him and keep him forever.)

This man that sits before me, tipsy and unaware, eventually asks for the check and some boxes for the leftovers. I’m still hungry, having barely touched my rolls while he somehow managed to wolf his down, chug his beers (yes, both beers! This man is going to drive himself home and he drank both beers like it’s nothing! It’s noon on a Tuesday!), and maintain a conversation with himself.

The check comes and as I reach for my bag (I’m inclined to split this meal lest this man think I owe him even so much as a goodbye kiss), and he quickly tosses his debit card onto the black plastic tray. He banks with a local credit union—that’s at least one positive he has going for him.

“Are you sure?” I ask, fingers still gripping my wallet.

“Of course,” he grins, looking at me with what I think he thinks is swagger. “I wouldn’t let a pretty lady buy her own lunch.”

A pretty lady that you implied is old and decrepit. How sweet.

He snatches the takeout boxes and starts adding his leftovers into them, then grabs my plate and scrapes my barely-eaten roll into the box along with his.

My mouth opens and closes. “Oh, I wasn’t done—”

“Well, I mean, I paid for it, I’m taking it home.” His tone is firm in a way I don’t dare disagree with, a tone he hasn’t taken this entire time but that I do not like the sound of.

I nod and smile, just as I have been for the last hour. “Of course, makes sense.”

As we walk outside and I fight the urge to sprint to my car without saying another word, he grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of a Japanese supermarket that’s just across the parking lot. He needs to look for something for his roommate while he’s here, he says.

I do not care.

I do not care that he’s trying to extend the date, I do not care that he seems to be having a good time. I want to go home. And yet, of course, I tag along, compelled by decades of having “go along to get along” drilled into my skull, and he explains a video game to me.

After, he walks me back to my car and tells me he had an amazing time and wraps me in another unwelcome hug. I stiffen again and this time I don’t bother patting him on the back; I simply stand there and wait for it to end. It’s perhaps rude, but he seems to be oblivious to it, at least.

I sit in my car and watch him drive off and leave a voicemail for my therapist that I need to bump up our session to this week.

The next day, ol’ Two Beers Sushi-Taker texts me.

He texts me at seven in the morning like an absolute maniac, then a couple more times for good measure; it means that he didn’t at all pay attention to the little bit of personal lore I dropped in that I work a non-standard schedule and would likely be sleeping. Also, I am as eager as they come when it comes to wanting the attention and approval of the opposite sex but come on man, show some restraint.

I’m waiting for the inevitable “thanks but no thanks” text that I’m accustomed to, but I make an audible groan when I see an emoji-punctuated message about what a great time he had, and he thought we really hit it off, and he wants to know if I’m free tomorrow night to go see a movie.

I toss my phone on the bed like it’s suddenly made of ants. I’ve been on—well, an amount of dates, and of all the people, this is the one who wants to see me again? I take a moment to compose myself, and text him back. I tell him I had a nice time, but I just didn’t feel a connection, and wish him all the best in his future dating endeavors. That should do it—it’s short, it’s sweet, it’s non-specific.

Within minutes, I’m hit with a flurry of confused responses.

Why? (Because you laid claim to my food by virtue of your chivalry. Because you called me old. Because you didn’t seem to get any hints that I was dropping, nor pay any mind to my body language or tone.)

Are you sure? (Never have I been more sure of anything.)

But I thought we really hit it off. (Were you on the same date that I was, my guy?)

You really seem like my type. (Sure I do, quiet and compliant and unwilling to call you on your bullshit because it’s only a first date.)

Do you want to give it a day and think it over? (My brother in Christ, you have got to move on.)

Maybe I should have been nice and went on another date. And then another. And then another, until I’m being so nice and accommodating that we get married and have some kids and I spend the rest of my life being nice and worrying so much about the way he feels that I reach the wrong side of seventy-five and realize I don’t even know who I am anymore, other than someone who can’t say no to save her life and erases all the pertinent parts of herself to make someone else feel comfortable and happy and fulfilled.

I take a breath, then two, then three, and respond that I’m sure, that I appreciate the offer but I don’t see this working out, and block him a few seconds after hitting send. I feel bad for a moment. Perhaps he has also been ghosted repeatedly like I have. Perhaps this is the most recent in a string of rejections. Perhaps he’s just bad at being sociable and this was truly the best he could do. Regardless, I do not owe him anything, but I still somehow feel like shit for the rest of the day.

I hope he finds happiness. I really do. And I hope the next girl insists on finishing her own fucking food.

[trashbag-baby666]

In my most truest angst form, I wanted to touch more on John and his ED in my hs au.

C/W-mentions of John having an ed.

As previously mentioned in past hc’s, John’s always been pretty picky about his food. Chicken strips are his biggest safe food and always has been. Unless, he knows he likes something else on the menu, John always orders chicken strips and fries. He calls himself a profession chicken strip expert, he knew the best ones and he said it certainly wasn’t canes.

John’s always had weird eating habits, he would bring his own lunches from home and wouldn’t eat them. Sometimes he would eat school lunch if a, Gale made him, or b it was chicken strip day or orange chicken days. During the summers he would spend with Gale it was similar of him not eating. When they were that age he just boiled it down to John rambling about his adhd medication and how it just kinda takes away his appetite.

It’s specifically when they’re juniors that things begin to hit a peak for him. His parents forced him back onto his adhd medication because of his grades. They were fighting worse than ever, anytime he was home his mom was chewing him out over something, blaming him for his father’s cheating. He knew very well that his mother loathed the fact that he looked just like his father. She made sure he didn’t forget.

These were the days where Curt and Gale could tell just by one look, if today would be a good day or bad day. He would push his food around at lunch until the bell sounded, that or if it touched he wouldn’t eat it. Gale caught on pretty fast, of course. He wasn’t pushy about it, or upfront about it, he just offers some kind words. “Do you wanna go get lunch from somewhere? I’ll buy it for you?” Or something that Gale finds to be more successful is when they share food. That way John isn’t over whelmed by his own plate and rather it’s something him and Gale can share. Except he knows that John finds it hard eating infront of others. At school it’s fine but if they’re out at a restaurant, Gale just politely asks for a box and an extra cup of ranch. He knows within an hour of John going home he’s gonna destroy the chicken strips left.

Unfortunately, things start to get worse around January. John’s having an even harder time eating just about anything, he dislikes the feeling of his food digesting. He learns pretty quick he can get around Gale if he waits till he’s in class after lunch and asks to go to the bathroom.

Gales beyond devastated when he finds out John’s been making himself throw up. He’s somewhat at a loss of how he can help John. He ends up making the difficult decision to really actually talk about it with him. They both had actively avoided talking about it with the other. Gale waits for a more appropriate time to bring it up with John.

They’re laying on Gales bed, John’s staring at the ceiling throwing a small ball up into the air and catching it. Gales trying to read his book but the thoughts are eating him away. He slowly put his book mark into his book and sets it on the nightstand.

He knows he has to watch how he phrases his words, he didn’t want John to get defensive and clam up.

“Can we talk about something?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry to bring it up, but John I’m getting worried about you and your eating habits.”

“Wuddya’ mean?”

“You haven’t been eating.”

John freezes up when Gale says that, he feels kinda like a child who just got caught red handed. He just shrugs it off with a small, “So?” But Gale most certainly isn’t going to leave it at that. So, he somewhat lets it go for the night and lands on they’ll talk about it again tomorrow.

They let the next day go by until they’re walking through the woods behind Gales house. Meatballs running ahead of them and Johns playing with a stick. But it isn’t Gale who brings it up it’s John.

He’s snapping this twig into pieces, “I was thinkin’ about what you said last night. Maybe it’s just because I’m on Adderall again but…I don’t know?” He shrugged tossing his broken up twig aside.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to know, I just wanna help you.”

John was struggling for his words, he felt uncomfortable talking about it. He didn’t know why? He could trust Gale with anything…but they just kept walking.

-

-

More to come?? Thanks for reading :3!!!<3

[starfall-spirit]

Renaissance Masterlist

AN: Make sure you read yesterday's chapter if you missed it!

Word Count: 1175

CW: Implication of sex. Nothing on page.

Epilogue

Six months later

“Rhys? Sorry. I know I said six tonight, but my last buyer was being a little difficult and…” She trailed off as she found him on the couch, still dressed in his work suit for whatever reason, a glass of red wine in hand, her own set on the coffee table between them. She tossed her coat and scarf over the couch arm, shaking off the New York winter. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She curled into his lap, smiling as he jolted slightly at her cold hand sneaking under his untucked shirt. “Cruel woman.”

She reached for her wine glass. “Something smells good.” 

“Dinner’s keeping warm in the kitchen. Once you defrost we can eat something. And then I have another surprise.” Her smile grew to a smirk and he pinched her side. “Not that.” He nipped her earlobe. “Yet.”

“And while I defrost?” she purred, carrying his usual confidence as she set down her wine with every intention of sinking to her knees in front of him.

He caught her hands halfway down, raising them to his lips. First the right, then the left, his lips linkering a second too long. “You can defrost in your dinner seat. Grab your glass.” 

She narrowed her eyes, but followed him to the table. Whatever he had to tell her must really be important. He had cooked a dinner of seared pork and carbonara. Over the past six months he had been showing off an impressive skill set in the kitchen that she hadn’t expected from him when they first met.

“So, tell me how commissions have been. You haven’t talked much about your work.”

There was a rough start to her art sales and commissions. When people realized her boyfriend had been the first to invest in her art, despite the two of them knowing the work came before the relationship, her credibility was naturally questioned. Once a few pieces got out, though, commissions boomed.

“Everything’s great. There are picky customers, of course, but it’s been wonderful. I’m so happy to be out there. And with my own studio. I suppose I have you to thank for that miracle.”

“All the work is yours, Feyre. You would have gotten there eventually.” her face heated and she began tracing her finger around the lip of her wine glass. “Feyre.” She froze. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

She did. And some days that still felt impossible to swallow. She knew all of her friends were proud of her in one way or another, but the constant praise Rhys provided could be… overwhelming. He leaned over the corner of the table, kissing her temple. “My Feyre.”

She sighed, about to take the next bite of her dinner when a tiny sound intruded on the peace of their dinner. Almost like… “Did you leave a video on in the back?” Rhys winced as a second meow was heard, this time more persistent. “Rhys? Why is there a cat in the house?” 

The next cry was closer to a yowl, followed by a soft thunk against the door. He wiped his mouth, preparing to explain the situation, likely. Unfortunately for him, Feyre was already down the hall, raising a hand to open the door a crack. Out leaped a ball of black fur.

“You adopted a kitten? What’s his name?”

“Bryaxis. He fell asleep just before you got home.” Rhys kept talking, but she didn’t hear a word after that. Because around his neck was a collar, not just holding a name plate, but a silver ring cradling a sapphire stone. Rhys strolled down the hall before crouching down beside her. “I know my first proposal wasn’t all that romantic, but I figured this might do the—”

She tackled him, his arrogant comment cut off with a kiss. Slow and deep and endless. He rolled so her back hit the hardwood. “Is that a yes?” She smiled. “Feyre, say the words. Tell me you’ll be my wife,” he all but begged.

She sobered at that. “I said no the first time.”

The starlight she  found in his eyes guttered. “And now?”

“Now, I want to thank you. For giving me the time to come out of it all. To heal from my past. And I want you to know that I would be honored—honored to be your wife.” He let out a ragged breath. A broken laugh followed it, muffled by her shirt as he pressed his face to her shoulder. She stroked his hair. “I love you, Rhys. More than anything in this world.”

“And I love you, Feyre darling. To the end of our days, through every adventure I’ll love you.”

“Good. Now tell me, what possessed you to adopt a kitten?”

He unhooked the ring from the collar, easing it onto her finger. “Well, he was cute.” She chuckled. “Please tell me you don’t actually want to talk about a cat right now.” He pressed a kiss to her throat. “After all the teasing you started this evening with, it would just be cruel.”

“Well… I did have another thing or two in mind on the way home.” He groaned against her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against him. “After all, you were the one who told me to stop.”

He carried her to their bedroom, his fingers digging into her waist as she put her lips and teeth and tongue to work on his neck. There would undoubtedly be a bruise or two for their friends to tease him about tomorrow. She gasped as her back met the hard wall rather than the bed behind them.

“I believe you mentioned something the other day about fucking me so hard the pictures fell off the wall. Are you as good as your word?”

“Still fully dressed and saying such vulgar things, darling.” She unlocked her legs from around his waist and started to strip her shirt. “Stop. That’s for me to do.” Instead of finishing the task she started, he swept her back into his arms to take her to the bed. “And I’m not fucking you against the wall. Not tonight, Feyre.” 

Peeling her out of her studio clothes, he showed her just what tonight was meant for.

~~~~~

She’d said yes. By some miracle, Feyre Archeron agreed to marry him. He’d shown his gratitude by worshiping every inch of her body. He’d do it again and again, every day for the rest of his life. But in that moment all he wanted to do was hold her close, breathe her in. “I love you, Feyre. More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too. You know…”

“What?” he asked, already reading the hint of trouble in her voice. She was after something.

“Well, you took a young artist to Florence for a fake honeymoon. Where will you whisk your wife away to, hm?”

He laughed, full and free, pulling her a little closer. “My Feyre.” He kissed her hair. “Have I ever mentioned our property in Paris?”

“I’m listening.”

~~~~~

AN: We have reached the end. For those of you who stuck around, thank you so much. I will be marking the fic as complete on ao3, but keep your eyes open. I might just be inspired to write a bonus chapter in Paris!

Taglist: Reach out to be added or removed.

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @elentiya-whitethorn // @gwynkyrie // @acotar-fanns

[star-going-supernova]

well um, hello hello! I was scrounging around the fic recs for fnaf and I stumbled upon your post back in 2022 where you had recommended a bunch of older fnaf fics with mike Schmidt and that inspired me to read some of them (current rereading the upon series)

Y’know I read the upon series in 2021 for the first time and revisited it a few times through the last wow, it’s almost three years now? It wasn’t until you stress that there was a character named Mark Pliers when I realized dhbdbdjajs that was golden

I’m planning on revisiting k(night) guard and start reading good as gold + unexpected attachments

my memory is rather poor so I feel like i already read good as gold/unexpected attachment but I can’t quite put a finger on it and I can’t really remember much of anything of k(night) guard but I try to see it as an opportunity to re-experience these guys

If you have recommendations for some more older fnaf fics (or Sb fics!! I haven’t touch that side of fnaf ever since DeeplyJuniper’s and Glitched_And_Unnamed’s Visions (or lack thereof) fic)

that is all !! Bye bye!!

Hello hello, friend! I'm glad my fic recs vibed with you! I have an extremely deep fondness for old fnaf fanon (if that rec list didn't make that obvious) and I'm happy to share some more with you!

Disclaimer once again: these are old and canon has changed massively since these were written, meaning these all feature fanon Mike Schmidt. Secondly, it's been a long time since I've read these, so I may not be remembering them completely accurately, lol.

• After Hours — A classic, and it's been long enough that I barely remember it other than I enjoyed it and I think it made me cry at the end?

• In the Flesh — A fascinating take on what being stuffed in a suit does to a person. Interesting relationships across the fnaf 1 and 2 animatronics, iirc. Angsty too, but in a fun way. (Features Mike/Bonnie)

• Metal Guardians — An actually pretty sweet, uncomplicated story. The animatronics don't really talk in this one, and it's pretty tame for fnaf. There is a past child death (via cancer) that's brought up a few times, tho.

• Overheated — This is a cute two-shot about the animatronics mistaking Mike as just a different sort of animatronic, and he's like *sweating nervously* "yeah... that's right." This author has a few other similar fnaf fics, wherein Mike needs a hug and for better or worse gets one from the animatronics.

It's not a long list, partially because I'm a picky reader, lol, and partially because a few really good ones I remember seem to have been deleted. And unfortunately, I can't really offer any SB fics because I don't really read SB fics.

[dukeofdelirium]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "dukeofdelirium "?

Oh lord. Fav fanfics? Idk if I could even come up with 10.

I don’t really read fanfic that much these days unfortunately, mostly bc I haven’t rlly had time with my current job. I do write fanfic on my AO3 though (but my updating is random bc I work a lot). You can find me on AO3 at dukeofdelirium

I have multiple ongoing fanfics, including a Death Note/lawlight one that I’m writing the 2nd chapter for when I have free time.

As for my all time fav fanfics? Ummmmmmm

1) Genius Is a Curse by Bloodshot Eyes both on ao3 and fanfiction.net.

This is a DN AU where Light never finds the DN. I will say it’s very heavy on mental illness and things like that, and ppl might find the content triggering so I would read with caution if this is the case for you. It’s a fanfic that I still think about to this day and that I’ve reread maybe 5 times in the last 14 yrs. Something about it rlly stuck with me and I still think about it all the time.

2) The Hinterland Doctrine aka Those Who Stand For Nothing Fall For Anything by Halfpromise both on ao3 and fanfiction.net

We all know where we were when this shit dropped lmfao. This is one of the most iconic death note/lawlight fanfics ever written and just so you’re aware, it’s almost 800,000 words. It has its own tv tropes article and everything 😂 I remember reading this fic in highschool and it had me fucked up in all sorts of ways. I’ve been thinking about rereading it bc I haven’t read it in years but I remember how much I loved it. It’s also an AU where Light is a politician, I’m not telling you anything else 🤫

3) motion picture soundtrack by lowlightt on ao3

this author…. This AUTHOR…. Nahhhhhh their writing makes me actually insane I’m serious. Me and my bestie kept sending their fics back and forth in our group chat and we were literally quoting the fics and going crazy until like 4am for multiple nights in a row 😂 see I’ll do it right now. IT’S VIOLENCE, THIS KISS! god that knocks the wind out of me 🤣

4) Drag You Down by chocomd on ao3

This is a Katara x Aang long fic where they break up and eventually get back together. I rlly love this author and I’ve read most of their works. I recommend all their stuff, especially Midnight Meditations and Without Water which are both one shots I believe? Don’t quote me on that tho

The only other fics coming to my mind are fanfics that my friends have written. Like I said, I don’t rlly read too much fanfic these days and when I do read them, I am very selective and picky about it. For a fic to hold my interest and actually be memorable, they rlly have to scratch a highly niche itch in my brain lol. I’ll link some of my besties fanfics if anyone wants to check them out :)

5) Golden Hour by FuelMyDelusions on ao3

This is a Jacob x Bella longfic and a Breaking Dawn rewrite (thank god cuz we all know it needs that) and I’m WAITING FOR BESTIE TO UPDATE 🙄 jk I can’t talk cuz I know she’s waiting for me to update my shit too 😔🤚🏻

6) Aurora - A New Dawn by poizonivory on ao3

This is another twilight Jacob x Bella longfic that is fixing the hot mess that Breaking Dawn aka Smeyer Hell created. I love this fic so much 👹 you’ll catch me in the comments acting weird

Anyway lol, I can’t think of any other fanfics at the moment. Feel free to shoot me other asks if you want, but yeah I don’t rlly read too many fics these days except for what my friends write and stuff that rlly catches my attention.

And to answer your last question, there isn’t any particular story or meaning behind my username. I’ve just had the username for years and so I use it for practically everything. My URL used to be different over a decade ago when I joined tumblr (I was a 100% death note blog at the time) but then I changed it to dukeofdelirium so I’ve kept this username for many years 😋✌🏻