#cryptid roommate tag
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"Oh no! *switches to Russian accent* I turned my keyboard Russian again."
(Bee)
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Only tangentially related but:
I used to read Nancy Drew books like they were going out of style. I loved them. But then I started accidentally guessing what the end would be. And it started to happen every time I read a Nancy Drew books.
This isn't actually supposed to happen with mystery formula fiction -- part of the formula is exclusion of a key clue or so, so that the reader is surprised (iirc) with the sleuth's conclusion. And, yeah, Nancy Drew books are especially formulaic (part and parcel to that particular subset of the Juvenile mystery genre - and how so many were written so fast without losing the "Caroline Keene" style between ghostswriters), but you're not supposed to be able to guess the villain of the book halfway through said book.
Anyway, I apparently became Nancy Drew psychic, specifically, for the classic series. I had to stop reading them because the payoff was just kind of disappointing when I was doing that. XD
Nancy Drew, and the Hardy Boys, will always have a special place in my heart, mind. But I can't think about Nance without also thinking about how many of the classic books I didn't read, because I'd become too good at predicting them lmao.
That said, my propensity to predict twists in the mystery genre (subset of: formula mystery) doesn't make me a pro at mystery media. What it does is make me very frustrating to sit through movies with, according to The Cryptid Roommate, bc I get excited when I realize things and blurt them out. Part of it is the ADHD, part of it was too many mystery books when I was very young (Nancy Drew included). ...at least I'm self-aware?
that some people respond to any well-foreshadowed reveal with “ugh that plot twist was so predictable” proves bad faith criticism has rotted their brains to the point they think it’s bad writing if they can correctly identify information the writers were intentionally giving them
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Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.
Still, the scene was ridiculous.
On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.
Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.
Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.
Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.
Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.
Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)
And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,
Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:
Danny: Just don’t let them in
Jason: ??
Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.
Jason: …I can?
Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.
Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?
Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.
Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)
Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.
(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)
Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.
Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)
Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.
Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.
It’s literally just Bruce.
Time to call Constantine, i guess.
#bat shenanigans ensue#JSJSJS okay so i dont have a well versed timeline of events but two years after utrh who HASNT died of the batfam#cause those are the ones who are gonna go undercover to find what shady shit is this: )#im going with timmy cass and duke#sorry steph i KNOW you have died#the others have plausible deniability from my part#the trio is gonna come down hard on this unsuspecting pair#let's just say constantine just had one spare magical rune for each of them so they'll be able to identify who was powerful enough to do it#and duke found civvie jason. cass found civvie danny and tim also found jason a la squared. in his red hood get up later that night#the only useful photos are from tim's side but anyways since they got three suspects (one suspected to be the other. so really-- two)#they decide to split each other up and tag one each (whoever doesn't get the correct guy loses)#tim calls dibs on the twink. cass rolls her eyes and narrows her eyes at the red hood and duke smirks when he gets to keep his guy#he's not cheating if he didn't protest to getting to have the guy he already saw the aura of. he's sure he is IT#coincidentally duke happens to be the only bat jason doesn't recognize (and vice versa)#meanwhile cass is gonna be the one shadowing red hood which at this point he doesn't kill that much since he has his rules verymuch enforce#he does kill tho#so at some point they're gonna clash but at the start of the investigation no#let them be siblings your honor#big sis cass and her little brother 6'4 jay#and tim finally is gonna be the one to smoothly get himself in the conversation with cryptid roommate civilian danny fenton#genius dumbasses protection club#their first meeting is of course arranged but no less meet cute coffee shop au#anyways jason wants to know why the fuck hes got a bat tagging along with him so out of the blue and also why can't he fucking chase her of#cass is curious about how the red hood's mood constantly changes within her range yet he never attacks her despite his hurt-longing-anger#the boy who doesn't make noise fucking screeches when she sneaks up to him#and duke fucking brings his hands to block the chernobyl reject glow stick sun that's stands next to tim#while tim looks like his whole system is rebooting cause that's jason todd#dp x dc#danny phantom#jason todd
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Kinktober 「10:22」 — p.seonghwa
» ateez menu | seonghwa menu | kinktober masterlist «
➮ naga!Seonghwa × fem!Reader wc: 6.3k summary: Y/N’s naga roommate is still trying to get used to the hustle and bustle of life in the city. He finds it difficult to go out and socialize as monsters aren’t socially accepted yet. So he tends to go a little stir crazy and get bored often. dinner time is no different when he suggests they do something fun. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, snakes, snake behavior (literally. Not metaphorically lol), snake biology and anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.
a/n: this was originally Wooyoung when I started planning but I couldn’t get the idea of naga!Seonghwa out of my head so I swapped him and Woo, giving Wooyoung siren instead. Nagas are one of my favorite creatures/monsters/cryptids. I have a special place in my heart for naga!Idols after writing that Mingi one for the Library of Illusion. It’s just a fun concept. Thank you for reading! If you like this, please consider reblogging and supporting my writing! The next part is another member of Ateez and it’s going to be an interesting one, so stay tuned! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.
smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), table sex, double penetration (f receiving), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (seonghwa is a snake man with two d!cks, they don’t make condoms for snake men. But they do make them for humans. So use them), multiple orgasms (f receiving), use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, etc.), that should be all but of course, let me know if I missed any. kinks: Table/counter sex + double penetration dialogue prompt: ❛❛ I’m bored. Let’s fuck. ❜❜
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You stared, dumbstruck, at your roommate as he stared at you with his bright, green, reptilian eyes.
“What did you just say?” you asked incredulously as a smirk started to form on his face. “I said,” he started, never taking his eyes off yours. “I’m bored.” Your eyes narrowed as you stared him down. “I meant after that,” you retorted. The smirk on his face grew even more.
“Let’s fuck.”
When he had initially said those words to you, it was after you had returned home from work, excited to have the entire weekend off to relax and unwind. You had been prepared to come home, make dinner, and perhaps curl up on the couch with your favorite bottle of wine.
What you hadn’t expected was for your naga roommate to suggest the two of you have sex to combat his boredom. That was the furthest thing from your mind. The idea of fucking your 4.5 meter long naga roommate had not even crossed the threshold of possibilities in your mind.
When you first met Seonghwa, it was like seeing the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot for the first time. Nothing truly prepares you for seeing a cryptid for the very first time. There are no preparation classes or exams for that kind of thing. You have to rely on your instincts and while every single bone in your body had told you to run, you just couldn’t bring yourself to listen.
Despite his monstrous stature and long, snake-like body, Seonghwa was the exact opposite of a monster to you. He was kind, courteous, polite, and quiet. He sometimes had a bit of a chaotic streak but he was great company and you enjoyed every second you spent in his presence.
When the Monster Relocation Initiative was enacted, making it illegal to discriminate against sentient humanoids, you found yourself wanting to help in some capacity because of your new budding friendship. You went through the proper channels, signing up for a monster roommate. Somehow, Seonghwa got matched with you and you were beyond excited to have him in your apartment.
Your ridiculously cramped apartment.
Not that it was cramped before, oh no. Before Seonghwa moved in, your apartment was just the right size. Perfect for you, living alone in a historic building renovated into apartments after the Monster Relocation Initiative was announced.
To you, your apartment was exactly the right size… for a single occupant. But add a 4.5 meter long snake-man and it started to get cramped real quick.
Not that you were complaining. On the contrary, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Seonghwa may technically be a monster but he was the furthest thing from scary. Was he capable of wrapping you in his strong coils, squeezing the life out of you and eating you whole? Probably, but you knew he would never do that.
The difference between most monsters and the ones protected in the M.R Initiative was that the humanoids were sentient, capable of intelligent thought and able to learn and distinguish the difference between right and wrong. Could Seonghwa kill you in your sleep? Of course, he was fully capable of that. But would he? No.
This integral difference between most monsters and the humanoids allowed most of them to get jobs and integrate into society. It was illegal to discriminate in any way against them, denying them employment, housing, or entry to establishments was punishable by law. They were legally members of society with citizenship cards, IDs and the right to vote.
Socially, however, was another matter entirely. While they couldn’t be denied jobs for being who they were, many places of employment found entirely valid, albeit bogus, reasons not to hire humanoids. This had been the subject of many of your conversations with Seonghwa by this point.
He often complained of boredom, being cooped up in the apartment all day. It was a difficult subject and rather sensitive for him. His lack of employment. Since Seonghwa moved into your place, you’d taken on most, if not all, of the financial responsibility, paying all the bills, buying all the household groceries and supplies. Again, you weren’t complaining entirely. You enjoyed having Seonghwa around.
He did wonders for your mental health, which was why you often sat and listened to his complaints.
The topic of unemployment had come up again while you sat at your dining room table, where you were finishing up your dinner, Seonghwa having finished a long time ago. He had been talking about his day spent inside while you were outside, at work. He complained of the boredom and you listened patiently.
“Come on, Y/N!” he whined for the nth time that day. “I'm so bored!” You swallowed your mouthfuls of noodles before giving him an apologetic look. “Hwa,” you said calmly, setting your fork down as you finished your meal. “Why don't you try again and find another job?”
His lack of employment wasn’t entirely his fault. He’d been extremely diligent in the beginning, applying for a plethora of jobs he was more than qualified for. He managed to secure job interviews left and right but each time after the interview, the result was the same and after almost a year of numerous failures to secure a job, Seonghwa became more and more dejected. More depressed.
While being legally accepted into society, Seonghwa was still not accepted socially due to his monstrous size and form. He’d been passed over again and again for job simply because he looked different. The more human the humanoids looked, the more likely they were to blend in and while the top part of Seonghwa was human enough, the other three meters of him was all too telling of his nature.
It had been well over a year since Seonghwa started living with you and while you were financially capable of handling the household bills until he did manage to land a job, Seonghwa was berating and beating himself up for it. He often snuck into your bed, at least as much of his body that would fit, and the two of you would stay up, talking late into the wee hours of the morning.
Most of his concerns circulated the same train of thought: finding a job and establishing himself as a member of society. He hated the isolation that his previous life forced on him, living all alone in the caves in the mountains with no one to talk to, being confined to the caves and starving until some poor creature wandered into his lair. He hated every second of it.
It was nice, having a warm body near you, and while Seonghwa wasn’t the cuddliest creature, he did tend to wrap you up in his embrace, mainly to keep from pushing you off your bed with the rest of his huge, elongated body. The amount of heat between your bodies on some of the colder nights was nice but it left you wondering what the line between you was and had you crossed it already.
You'd be lying if you said you didn't think about Seonghwa in that way. More than once you had walked in on him showering, water running down his human torso as he tried to wash only his hair and not get his scales wet. Not because he couldn't get wet but because he didn't want trail water everywhere.
You pushed the inappropriate thoughts aside as your friend started to speak.
“What's the point?” he muttered. “All I get is rejected. By jobs, by society, by everyone.”
You felt your heart sink. Your poor best friend. He was such a bright, bubbly person-- monster? He had so much love to give so to see him so down pulled at your heartstrings. You set your chopsticks down and reached across your tiny table to place a gentle hand over his that rested on the wooden surface.
Seonghwa looked from your hand up to meet your gaze as you smiled warmly at him. “I don't reject you,” you said softly. Seonghwa accepted your gesture, taking your hand in both of his hands and bringing it to his face, turning your hand over and pressing your palm against his cheek. “I know,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
As quickly as it started, the tender moment was over when your phone buzzed violently against the table. Using your free hand, you grabbed the device as Seonghwa stared wide-eyed, his slit-like pupils widening to twice their normal width. “Ugh. What part of working hours do my bosses not understand,” you grumbled, reading over your supervisor's text.
“It’s the weekend and nearly nine at night,” you added as you read over more of the message. “Well, at least I can handle this from home,” you continued when Seonghwa didn't reply.
You glanced up, mid-text, to see why he wasn't responding. He was looking at your phone, a far off look in his eyes. “Hwa?” you called gently. He seemed to snap out of it and look up at you. “Are you alright?” you asked softly. Seonghwa nodded, eyes fixating on your phone again. “That sound,” he started, voice barely above a whisper. You looked down at your phone and back up to your friend.
“The vibration? Oh shit! I totally forgot!” you said quickly changing the vibration settings on your phone. In the wild, snakes sense the world by vibration and heat signatures. Seonghwa was no different. He'd told you in the beginning how highly sensitive to vibrations he was. He also can see in the dark using heat.
“It's not that,” Seonghwa said suddenly. “It reminded me of… nevermind,” he said after a brief pause. You could tell something was on his mind. Not wanting him to feel like he couldn't talk to you, you locked your phone screen before setting the device back on the table, face down and giving Seonghwa your undivided attention.
“No,” you started. “It's okay, you can tell me.”
You noticed how Seonghwa's cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of peach. “No,” he said nonchalantly, waving his hand. “It's nothing.”
You stared at him, waiting for him to feel the weight of your stare which took less than three seconds. “You know you can tell me anything,” you replied kindly. “You know I'll never judge you.” Seonghwa gave you a very pointed stare, raising one eyebrow.
“Okay, except for that one time I saw you swallow three whole rotisserie chickens at the store, I won't judge you.”
A familiar smile broke over your roommate's face as he remembered the day in question. “The look on your face was priceless,” he mused, a giggle escaping him. You rolled your eyes.
“Yeah, but the chickens weren’t,” you retorted, causing Seonghwa to burst into laughter. “I know, I'm sorry,” he said between giggles. “I promise I'll pay you back!” You joined him in his laughter a moment later, shaking your head as he laughed loudly.
The laughter eventually subsided and you got up to clear the table, moving to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Seonghwa followed, leaning on his elbows against the kitchen island while he watched you. It was only a few dishes you needed to wash and once you set them aside and removed the gloves, you turned to find Seonghwa staring you down, his green eyes exploring your form.
“Hwa?” you called to him, drawing his attention slowly back up to meet your gaze. You saw the tip of his long tongue, which was remarkably human in color and forked, dart out to lick his lips. “I’m bored,” he said, making you roll your eyes as you moved to the fridge, your fingers wrapping around the handle only for his next words to make you freeze.
“Let’s fuck.”
You had been staring at him for a good five minutes, equal parts shocked and confused by his sudden proposal. “What did you just say?” you asked, your voice cracking as a smirk spread across his face. “I said I’m bored,” he repeated, trying to play coy. You shook your head. “I meant after that.”
Seonghwa’s smirk only grew as he stared at you, his eyes seeming to glow slightly. “Let’s fuck,” he repeated, his words taking all the breath from your lungs. Never had he been so bold. He’d never been so forward with you before. You felt a wave of heat course through your body, spreading from your core to your extremities and settling in the pit of your stomach.
“What… why… how…” you tried three times to ask a question but each time, the words failed you. Seonghwa tilted his head with a mischievous smile. “Snake got your tongue?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I – uh…” you trailed off, cheeks burning under his gaze.
“Are you always this eloquent?” Seonghwa asked jokingly. “What prompted this?” you finally managed to choke out. Seonghwa shrugged, leaning back up. You could hear the coils of his snake body slide over the wooden floor, the boards creaking slightly under his weight.
“I’ve thought about it all day actually,” he said simply. “Thought about what?” you asked, your voice cracking again. “Fucking you when you got home.”
Coughing overtook you as you accidentally inhaled your own spit. Seonghwa was by your side in an instant, guiding you to sit down at the table and offering you your glass from the table. You took a couple sips while he rubbed your back soothingly. “Does the idea of fucking me gross you out that much?” he joked. You quickly shook your head.
“That's not it,” you replied quickly, voice raspy from the choking and coughing. “I'm not opposed at all actually.”
You stopped, turning to look at Seonghwa who was now smirking at you, a devilish grin on his face. “Oh really now?” he asked softly, tilting his head. “Thought about me in that way, have you?”
Your face burned again, cheeks growing warm as you nervously pulled at the collar of your shirt. “Is it warm in here?” you murmured, looking down at your bowl full of broth that was now definitely cold.
Seonghwa's smirk grew. “It's a little warm,” he answered, reaching up to brush your cheek before leaning in, lips inches from your ear. “But it's about to get a whole lot hotter.”
You stared at the naga as he continued to smirk at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “W-what do you mean?”
Seonghwa leaned his upper torso on the table, the bottom snake half of his body resting on the wooden floor, the boards creaking beneath his weight. He cocked his head, still smirking. “It means,” he started, eyes quickly scanning your frame before darting back up to meet your gaze. “That I'm bored.”
His answer was anticlimactic and that must have showed on your face because he quickly held up a finger, making you wait. “Let me elaborate,” he added. You nodded, motioning for him to continue speaking. He lowered his finger, again scanning you quickly.
“I've always found you insanely attractive for a human. Normally your kind grosses me out or maybe they just annoy me,” he said, bringing his hand up to tap his chin thoughtfully. “Regardless,” he continued. “You're the first human to treat me with kindness and aren't bothered by my… unconventional appearance.”
You opened your mouth to protest his word choice but he simply took your chin in his hand, halting your movements. "Don't deny it," he stated, giving you a stern look. “You know that other humans aren't so keen on my kind. I don't look human enough for them. It's why no one will hire me and why you've been covering my ass all this time.”
Again you tried to speak but he gave your head a gentle shake.
“I'm still talking, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave. Heat rushed between your thighs at the sound of his deep husky tone of his voice. You tried to discreetly squeeze your thighs together but Seonghwa had always been so perceptive.
“Back to what I was saying,” he said, a smirk returning to his lips as he rested his free hand on your thigh. “I find you exceptionally attractive. Everything about you is enticing. Your voice, your eyes, your smile…” he trailed off, eyes lowering to your thighs clenching together. “Even your scent,” he rasped.
You let out a tiny gasp as you felt the pointed tips of his nails dig slightly into the exposed flesh of your thigh. “And judging by your reactions and what you said moments ago, you clearly are attracted to me,” he continued, glancing back up.
You pulled your bottom lip gently between your teeth as he eyed you. “Isn't that right?” he asked, tilting his head. You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak. “And so let me rephrase my earlier statement,” Seonghwa said, moving his hand from your chin to grab the back of your neck.
“I'm bored. Let’s fuck.”
You had no chance to respond, only gasp before your voice was muffled, Seonghwa closing the short distance between your lips and taking you in a searing kiss.
The hand on your thigh held steady, fingers squeezing your thigh as Seonghwa parted your lips with his and his tongue slipped into your mouth. One of the more unsettling features was his forked tongue. You'd never felt it before but you were surprised it was soft, almost like a human tongue only forked and much longer.
Seonghwa pulled back much too quickly for your liking, chuckling when you attempted to pull him back in for another kiss. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I'm not going anywhere.”
You whined when he dodged another one of your attempts to kiss him. “Hwa!” you whined but he merely chuckled before pushing your centerpiece and other table decorations from the surface. They fell to the floor with a clatter while you stared wide eyed at your roommate.
“Are you ins-”
“Get on the table,” Seonghwa ordered, stopping you in your thoughts. You blinked incredulously at him. “O-on the table?” you stammered. He nodded, standing up straight. Looking at the now clear surface, you looked back at him. “Wh-why?”
“Because,” he said in a growl, the hand on your thigh sliding up under your loose shorts. “This is the dinner table and I'm hungry.”
You quickly scrambled up, ignoring the way the table creaked as you scooted into position. Seonghwa was quick to pull off the shirt he was wearing. He only wore it around you at your insistence. His naked, toned torso was distracting at times.
“Take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the hem of your shorts.
You moved at lightning speed, pursuing the material down and discarding it on the floor. “These too,” Seonghwa continued, running his thumb over the thin material of your panties. You were about to comply when an idea popped into your head.
“You take them off,” you retorted.
Seonghwa eyed you, squinting suspiciously before he leaned over, towering over your form. “If I take them off, I'll ruin them,” he replied. “You really want that?” You shook your head. “Control your strength,” you answered. “Tease me. Seduce me.” Seonghwa laughed out loud. “You're lying on your back all but presenting yourself to me on the table, sweetheart,” he stated. “I think I've already seduced you.”
Wordlessly, you sat up, pushing him back. “Then I guess I'll get dressed again,” you replied, moving to drop to the floor but Seonghwa stopped you, fingers wrapping around your throat lightly. “Like hell you will. You want me?” he asked, eyes burning into yours. You swallowed thickly against his hand, nodding slowly.
“Then you're gonna lie back, spread your legs and let me tease you until you're begging me for my cock,” he continued. Almost as if his words were hypnotizing, you slowly laid back as his hand slid from your neck and down your chest to the hem of your shirt.
He pushed it up as he leaned over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his lips leave light kisses down your stomach. “You want me to tease you?” he asked softly. “I'll tease you, alright?”
You let out a soft moan as his kisses moved further and further, skipping over your core and starting at your knee. You chanced a glance at him, moaning loudly as your gaze met his. His lips parted in a grin before he continued kissing down the inside of your thigh, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin, making you gasp.
“God, I can smell you,” he groaned, burying his nose into your core. “I can't wait anymore,” he growled, pulling back, grabbing the sides of your panties and pulling them down your legs, leaving a trail of arousal smeared down your inner thigh. “I need to taste you.”
Before you could respond, Seonghwa had your legs over his shoulders and face buried in between them, tongue easily slipping between your folds. You gasped out, hands moving to his hair and gripping tightly. “Holy fuck, Seonghwa!” you gasped.
He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations to his tongue. “I'm going to ruin oral for you,” he murmured, pulling back to look at your glistening sex. “From now on, only I will be able to eat you out. No one else will be able to compare.”
You moaned again as his tongue returned to your clit, the appendage wriggling and teasing the sensitive nub. "Hwa," you whined, chest heaving as you panted. His hands pushed your thighs further apart, opening more of you up to him. “Don't worry, sweetheart,” he replied. “You'll cum eventually.”
You felt his tongue prod at your hole and almost as soon as he found it, his tongue was slithering its way in, making you whimper, walls clenching as his tongue explored your pussy. “S-Seonghwa!” you cried out, back arching off the hardwood. He pulled back before your orgasm washed over you, making you whimper in protest. “Be patient,” he said simply as he gave you another devilish smirk.
His tongue was back on you in an instant, flicked your clit as his claws dug further into your skin but not enough to make you bleed. You knew you were going to bruise from his insane grip. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair as he ran his tongue up and down your clit, the forked, pointed tip a strange contrast to the oddly human feeling of the muscle.
Your hips started to buck, rolling against his face as your orgasm approached once more. Seonghwa groaned, letting you rut against his tongue, keeping his head still for a moment before he grabbed your hips, pinning them down against the wood as he went back in, lapping at your clit in rapid movements until the tension that had been building finally snapped like a rubber band and your climax washed over you.
You let out a moan that bordered on a whine as you tugged at Seonghwa’s hair, trying to pull him away from your sensitive nub as your body jerked in reaction to each drag of his tongue over your swollen clit. “Hwa,” you breathed. “Please. No more.” He obliged instantly, withdrawing from your cunt and kissing a wet path up your body. Stopping at the edge of your black bralette.
This needs to come off,” he murmured, taking the material in his teeth and tugging lightly. “D-don’t rip it,” you whispered, moving to sit up on the edge of the table, making him sit up straight and watch as you pulled your shirt off over your head, letting it fall to the floor with your panties. You held his gaze as you pulled your bralette off, letting it also drop to the floor. His eyes left yours, gaze wandering down to take in the sight of your bare chest.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he said softly, shifting to lean over you, his lips meeting yours in a much slower, more languid kiss as he laid you back against the table, the wood creaking under your combined weights. “What if it breaks?” you whispered against his lips.
“That would be impressive,” he murmured, lips ghosting over yours as he moved to kiss your neck. You could feel something rubbing against your cunt and glanced between your bodies to see the slit at the base of his torso. It was something you’d noticed plenty of times. The bump surrounding the slit wasn’t massive but it was still a decent size. It didn’t occur to you until then that was where his genitals were located.
Your head fell back against the table as he nipped at and sucked small love bites into the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulder met. “Hwa,” you breathed out, back arching slightly, pressing your chest against his. “Hmm?” he hummed in response, his tongue gliding over your pulse point and up to the base of your ear. “I need you,” you whispered.
“Needy little baby,” Seonghwa said as he let out a chuckle and shifted slightly, pressing that mound at the base of his torso against your wet core. “Does my little angel need me?” he cooed in your ear. “Wants me to fuck her?” You nodded, whining as he rutted against you, your arousal smearing over his skin. “Then who am I to deny her?”
He pulled back slightly and you let out a whine of protest but you quickly felt something hot and warm brush against your cunt and gasped. You tried lifting your head but Seonghwa made that impossible, taking you into a searing kiss. “Hwa,” you grumbled as his lips left yours. “I wanna see.”
Seonghwa snorted but pulled back slightly. “You wanna see what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “I wanna see it,” you said, trying to look down between your bodies. Seonghwa let out a dry laugh but obliged you, pushing himself up. Your eyes traveled down his lean body until you were met with a sight you were not expecting.
The slit had been split open and not one but two cocks had emerged. They were a pale pink color, the tips slightly red. Whether that coloration was natural or because he was aroused, you had no idea and you weren’t sure if you wanted to ask. The general shape was relatively human-like except for the head. The tip of each cock was slightly pointed, the base of the head flaring out a small amount.
The shafts were both mostly smooth with a few prominent veins. White beads of precum oozing from the slits on both. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to get a better view, lips parting in awe. Seonghwa watched your expression, keeping an eye on your body language as you eyed him up. He knew he was quite different from a human in this regard and the look on your face was anything but disgust. There was an excited look in your eyes.
And that, in turn, excited him.
“You done staring?” he asked in an amused tone. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Sorry,” you whispered as he leaned over you, lips inches from yours. “It’s just so different.” Seonghwan hummed in response, lips brushing against yours as he leaned in closer. “You like what you see?” he asked softly. You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as his lips ghosted over yours before kissing you softly.
“You want both of them at the same time?” You let out a sound between a moan and a sob. “Yes,” you groaned as his lips kissed slowly along your jaw. “I want both of them in me.” Seonghwa held back the growl that rumbled in his chest. “Let’s start with just one,” he murmured in your ear. “On your stomach for me, baby.”
You quickly got up, turning to face the table. Before you could actually climb onto it, Seonghwa bent you over the edge, pressing your chest against the wooden surface. “I’ll go slow,” he said softly as he leaned over your back, the tip of one of his cocks pressing against your cunt. “I promise.” You nodded in response. “I trust you,” you whispered as you felt the very tip of his cock part your folds.
“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he asked softly. You nodded wordlessly, folding your arms in front of you as he grabbed your hips, stilling behind you as he looked down at where one of his cocks was about to disappear into you. He wasn’t lying earlier, he had thought about this moment for a while now.
“Oohh shiiiit,” you groaned, burying your face into your forearm as you felt Seonghwa ease the tip of his cock into your cunt. You heard him hiss from behind you. F-fuuuuuuck,” he grunted as he bottomed out, burying all of his length into your walls.
“You feel so warm,” he muttered, one hand moving to rest against the table, the other keeping a firm grip on your hip. “S’full,” you whimpered, your walls fluttering around and gripping Seonghwa’s cock as your body tried to adjust and accommodate him.
“Yeah?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “You like that? You like feeling full, baby?”
You responded with a whimper as he pulled back and gave you a gentle and shallow thrust, a deep rumble sounding from his chest. Almost like a purr. “Fucking hell, so warm and tight,” he said again, marveling at how strong of a grip you had on him.
“It’s like you’ve never been fucked.”
You groaned as he picked up the pace, his hips hitting your ass with each thrust with a slap. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Seonghwa hissed, slowing his hips. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he growled.
That being the constricting of your walls around his cock. “I c-can’t control that,” you gasped as he gave you a deep thrust. “Well try, damnit,” he huffed. “I don’t want this to end before it’s really even started.” You cried out as he gave you another deep thrust. “Ooh, that’s new,” he said cheekily, repeating the same action. “Your neighbors might not enjoy all the sound though.”
You had no chance or urge to respond as he picked up the pace again, pounding into you from behind. “What? No snarky comeback this time?” he asked, chuckled as you shook your head, unable to speak. The wood under you creaked as he leaned over, placing his other hand on the table for leverage.
“You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he whispered in your ear. As if to drive his point home, he shoved all of his cock into your cunt and held it there, enjoying the way you struggled against him and whimpered. “Feels that good, huh?” he whispered as you started to relax under him.
You felt the tip of his tail curl around your ankle. “I can feel your heart pounding,” he murmured, lips tailing along your shoulder as his chest dressed against your back. “I can hear it. I can smell you,” he continued. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
You nodded, shuddering as he started to pull back and resume thrusting. “I never would have pegged you to be a monster fucker,” he chuckled. You let out a groan as you felt the pad of his thumb press against your asshole. “What’re you -ah!” you gasped as he slowly pushed the tip of his thumb into you. “If you want to take both, I should probably prepare you,” he said softly.
Your walls clenched around his cock and he groaned, movements halting momentarily as he tried to regain his composure. “I told you to stop doing that,” he said in a low voice as he pushed his thumb further into you. You moaned against the wood of the table. Seonghwa quickly withdrew his thumb, letting a drop of spit fall onto your asshole before pushing two fingers into you, making you gasp, your hands balling into fists. “You okay?” he asked softly as he stilled.
You nodded. The intrusion, while welcome, still stung slightly. Seonghwa gave you a moment to adjust, slowly working your hole open, stretching slightly as he moved his fingers in and out of you. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stretch you fully,” he murmured as he felt his cock inside your walls twitch. “It’s fine.” you said in a breathless voice. “Just put them both in.”
Seonghwa grimaced at the thought of roughly shoving his cock into you, knowing it would hurt you greatly. “No,” he murmured, shaking his head. “We’ll just have to be patient.”
Your body had started to relax as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. After what felt like hours but was definitely only a few hours, he finally pulled his fingers out of you, resuming his thrusting. His pace was slow but the thrusts were powerful, rocking you into the table with each snap. Your hands tried to find purchase on the table as he continued to fuck you against the wooden surface.
“Oh fuck this,” Seonghwa suddenly growled, pulling out of you completely. You whined in protest but when he easily flipped you over onto your back you stopped whining. He lined both cocks up with your holes, the first sliding into your cunt easy but the second needed some guidance and coaxing. He managed to ease the tip into your ass, making you gasp as you felt the head of his cock slowly start to stretch you further.
“Hey, hey,” he said suddenly, noticing your body tense up. “Relax,” he whispered. “It’s gonna hurt but only for a bit,” he added. You nodded up at him, taking a deep breath and letting out. As you exhaled, he pushed more of the head into you, the flared base of his cockhead stretching you more before it finally slipped snugly inside. Seonghwa paused, letting your body adjust, gently stroking your thighs and whispering words of praise and encouragement in your ear.
When you had relaxed even more, Seonghwa continued to push into you, both cocks filling your holes simultaneously. It was an entirely different experience, looking up into his green eyes as he pushed back into you slowly. You tried to maintain eye contact but your eyes betrayed you, rolling back as both cocks bottomed out.
“Oh I like this more,” he chuckled, stilling as he let you adjust once more. After a few minutes, he started to move, setting a steady pace, pumping into you as he watched your face contort in pleasure. “I like being able to see your face. See the expressions you make as I fuck you,” he said as his pace increased, starting to pound into you.
The feeling was foreign but you enjoyed it. Both holes being filled at the same time provided a new type of pleasure, one you’d never even considered before. You knew after this, there would be no going back to normal men or normal sex. Not when you had Seonghwa in your apartment. As if he read your mind, Seonghwa spoke up, repeating the same sentiments you’d thought to yourself.
“I don’t think I could give this up,” he groaned, hips hitting the back of your thighs and ass with each powerful thrust he gave you, the sound of skin hitting skin and the wet lewd sounds of his cocks slamming into you filling the apartment. “Now that I’ve had a taste,” he added.
“Gonna wanna fill you every night.” You moaned in agreement, knowing that your nightly routines were about to change forever. “Would you let me?” Seonghwa asked breathlessly as his hips stuttered. “You gonna let me fuck you every night now?” You nodded, moans raising in pitch as he continued to snap his hips, driving his cocks into you.
Your lips parted, a moan falling past them which was soon swallowed by Seonghwa as he leaned down, taking your lips in a messy kiss. His hips never faltered, his thrusts growing erratic as he drove both of you to orgasm. His tail was still curled around your ankle as he gave you a couple more thrusts, throwing you over the edge. Your walls tightened around his cock as you came, pushing him to his own climax.
Each moan you let out he swallowed eagerly as he fucked you both through your respective highs, emptying a ridiculous amount of cum into your abused holes until he finally stopped moving, his thick sticky cum dripping out of you and onto the floor. Neither of you spoke, only panting against each other as you tried to catch your breath and process what just happened.
Seonghwa finally pushed himself up, using the table for support as he looked down at you. “I think…” he started, speaking between each labored breath. “We should get cleaned up.” You nodded, your chest rising and falling with each pant. “I think that’s a good idea,” you croaked. Seonghwa smirked down at you as you licked your lips and tried to sit up. “What?” you asked, noticing the hungry look in his eyes.
“Round two in the shower?” he asked eagerly. You scoffed. “You just came! And a lot I might add,” you protested, feeling even more of his cum spill out of you. Seonghwa leaned in, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You forget I’m not human,” he murmured against your lips. “So?” you asked in between kisses.
“I have a lot more stamina than anyone you’ve ever fucked,” he continued, pulling back and giving you another smirk before kissing you once more. You felt heat settle in the pit of your stomach as you remembered the two cocks that had emerged from the slit, both pink with pointed reddened tips. A fresh wave of excitement and arousal coursed through you at the prospect of being filled with both of them, something you had begged for earlier. Seonghwa, sensing your excitement, gave you another couple of kisses.
“And besides,” he added. “I’m not done with you just yet.”
©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.
#cultofdionysusnet#wonderlandnet#cromernet#ksmutsociety#kvanity#mfu-net#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez fanfiction#ateez fanfic#ateez smut#ateez x reader#seonghwa scenarios#seonghwa imagines#seonghwa fanfiction#seonghwa fanfic#seonghwa smut#seonghwa x reader#kwanisms kinktober 2024#kinktober 2024
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BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (iii)
These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.
~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (i)~ ~Recs (ii)~
Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.
Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T* ~ Please read responsibly~ ~*I don't believe any of the below fics are rated anything other than M or E, Minors save your time and find other lists :}~
If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk!
F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc
OT7/Multi
☆ Monster series by @whatifyoulivelikethat | Mafia AU | MYG + JJK | 17k+
☆ Mafia series by @neonlights92 | Mafia AU, Arranged Marriage AU |
Kim Namjoon
☆ Ensnared by @jamaisjoons | F2L Cryptid AU | 17k
☆ Stuttering by @moonlightchildz | Tutor AU, Rapper AU | 11k
☆ Inside my mind by @jimlingss | High School AU, Mind Reader AU | 19k
Kim Seokjin
☆ Birthright by @jimilter | S2L Vampire AU | 18k
Min Yoongi
☆ Sunrises & Liquor series by @aamalaaa | S2F2L Bar AU, 60k
☆ Three tangerines series by @kithtaehyung/@threetangerines, BBF AU | 253k+
☆ Lying that you love me by jeonsjiddies | S2F2L Roommates AU, “Bad Boy” AU | 11k
☆ Dealer series by @borahaerhy | S2L Dealer AU | (ongoing)
☆ Bad cop chronicles by @minisugakoobies | Cop AU, Parent AU | 12k
☆ Poison by @sugaflake | S2L Hookup Pw/oP? | 4k
☆ Seven year itch by @jimlingss | Established Relationship AU | 5k
☆ The early shift series by @hobidreams | E2L Coffee Shop AU, Coworkers AU | 21k
☆ One ring to bind them all, or, just a solitary, cranky demon series by @bts-love-sweat-tears | Demon AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Royal AU | 13k+
Jung Hoseok
☆ The dragon’s princess by @jamaisjoons | Fairytale AU, Dragon AU | 24k
☆ The bodyguard by @sopejinsunflower | Bodyguard AU, Mafia AU | 19k
Park Jimin
☆ The prince’s cinderella syndrome by @jimilter | S2L Uni AU, Fantasy/Supernatural AU | 39k
☆ Headlights by @jeonsjiddies | S2F@L Uni AU, Fboy AU | 15k
Kim Taehyung
☆ Trip by @daechwitatamic | ?2L Camping AU | 22k
☆ Always the bridesmaid by @kookingtae | S2F2L Journalist AU | 34k
Jeon Jungkook
☆ To know you is to love you by @jimilter | S2E2F2L Vampire AU, Supernatural AU | 21k
☆ The sea and the storm by @jamaisjoons | S2F2L Supernatural AU | 20k
☆ Jackrabbit by @jamaisjoons | Uni AU, Hybrid AU | 9k
☆ Ruin you series by @bts-bay-bee | BFF2FWB2L Uni AU | 10k
☆ Mutual by @seokjxnnie | Boss’s Son AU?? | 3k
☆ Cable management series by @19pancakes | S2L | ongoing
☆ Fighter series by @jeon-s-sins | S2F2L Underground Fighter AU | 8k+
☆ Candles & flames series by @taegularities | E2L Royal AU | 100k
☆ Reign series by @nochuobsessed | F2L Royal AU, sort of Arranged Marriage AU | 89k
Werewolf Recs (yeah i went through the phase, sue me)
☆ My Darkness by @missbangtae | Werewolf AU, Uni AU | 10k
☆ Room 109 by @lavishedinjimin | Werewolf AU, Roommates AU | 7k
☆ Scent by @rosesxstories | Werewolf AU, Established Relationship AU | 3k
☆ New beginnings by @gukeobi | E2F2L Werewolf AU | 17k
☆ Knot today by @kinktae | F2L Werewolf AU, Roommates AU | 6k
☆ Claws of carnality series by @jjungkooksthighs | Werewolf AU, Soulmate AU | 93k+
Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)
☆ @1kook‘s masterlist
☆ @jimilter‘s masterlist
happy reading!
#bts fic recs#group: bts#type: fic#this is a lil shorter than the other two but i haven't added anything to it in months and I just want this out of my drafts so here ya go
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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 10
Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, family issues, generational trauma, self-growth, personal issues (and dealing with it), hurt and comfort, hmmmm…. let’s leave it at that for now :) A/N: Final chapter, guys! Thanks so much for reading <3
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10
“Oh, what the hell—since when do you cook?”
“Bitch,” you laugh, nudging past them, the ceramic pot still steaming in your hands. “Do you want the risotto or not?”
The scent of garlic and pecorino permeates the air as you stand in front of the small foyer of the duplex where your friend—questionable, at the moment—lives. Your most recent culinary masterpiece, deemed safe (enough) for public consumption, rests between your hands in silent offering to the skeptic figure who’s barring you from crossing the threshold.
It’s still warm, and you’re not one to brag, but you think you’ve outdone yourself with this one. Not that it matters—everybody’s a fucking critic these days.
“Risotto?” Khol parrots in disbelief. “You don’t show up in forever, suddenly you’re all cuoca straordinario or some shit. Get out of here with your Mario ass–”
“Don’t mind them,” Anna interjects from behind your biggest hater, all cheer as she plucks the pot from your hands. “This smells amazing, actually. Come in!”
With that, she vanishes inside, leaving you and Khol alone in the doorway. You give them a knowing look.
“Oh wow,” you remark, all mock surprise. “You live together now?”
Khol rolls their eyes, already tired of you. “You missed the biggest arc of the last five months, but yeah.”
You step inside, and right away, something feels… different. It could partly be due to how much time has passed since you last visited, and it’s clearly still their place—the brooding industrial-emo aesthetic remains intact, still suspiciously close to resembling the lair of an angsty comic book antihero on acid—but it’s been overtaken by bits of boho-chic scattered all over the space.
Where there was once nothing but charcoal, vinyl, and concrete, there are now textures. Colorful woven throws drape artfully over the arm of the leather Eames sofa they won off a Craigslist bid. Tasseled pillows have multiplied across every seat surface like some kind of fabric-based contagion, while pothos vines dangle lazily from macramé hangers, stretching towards the moody Edison bulbs like they’re trying to escape the existential crisis of living here.
And then there’s the rug. Oh god, the rug.
A comically massive tufted ‘Flower Power’ rug sprawls across the center of the room, a swirling explosion of pinks and oranges—a final, cutesy fuck you to the apartment’s formerly depressing atmosphere before Khol’s new roommate staged her cheerful coup.
It should’ve been a hilarious sight, like a chaotic school art project where every kid picked a different medium to color and refused to compromise. But somehow… it works?
Against all odds, the goth cryptid and the hippie gremlin have found domestic equilibrium.
“Love what you did with the place, Anna,” you call out, toeing off your shoes at the door. “It doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old’s fantasy bedroom anymore.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Khol laughs, shaking their head. “As if you’re one to talk. Last time I visited, you still had that stupid-ass sofa. Is it still there?”
You sniff haughtily. “Excuse you, but that’s a custom piece. You wouldn’t get it.”
"Alright, you two," Anna says, leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, one hip propped against the frame. "Both of you have terrible taste in decor. Now, I have a fabulous Prosecco to pair with the risotto." She tilts her head, shooting her partner a pointed look. "Khol, darling, be a dear and grab the crystal from the cupboard?"
"Whipped," you sing as Khol, predictably, does exactly as told. They don’t even bother with a comeback, just flashes you a lazy middle finger over their shoulder as they disappear from view.
You grin, shaking your head. The moment stretches into something easy, comfortable. It’s nice—being here, bantering like no time has passed. You let yourself sink into it, tugging off your beanie as you cross the room.
The creaky couch welcomes you like an old friend, and you flop down unceremoniously, stretching your legs out, rubbing your feet against the oversized monstrosity of a rug that is... honestly, pretty fucking comfortable, actually.
Anna follows suit, settling beside you with far more grace, tucking one foot under the other.
She watches you for a moment, expression warm but slightly inquisitive. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”
You exhale, tipping your head back, staring up at the beams on the ceiling. "Yeah, sorry. Been a little out of it these past… couple of months, I guess."
Anna makes a quiet noise, something between understanding and acknowledgment. "You’re doing okay now?"
The easy answer sits on your tongue—yeah, of course. An automatic response, a reflex built from habit. Another front to put up, another lie to slip behind.
But you’ve been working on this. So instead, you take a breath and say,
"Not… really."
The words feel foreign, heavy, but oddly freeing as they leave your mouth.
Your gaze flickers to the side table—framed photos of Khol and Anna, smiling, sunlit. You don’t linger.
“I mean, better now compared to, maybe, a few weeks ago. I’m getting there.”
Anna’s brows lift slightly—not in surprise at the sentiment itself, but at the fact that you admitted it out loud. There’s something thoughtful in her expression, something softer around the edges. “Good. That’s good.”
You can tell she means it. Maybe even more than you expected.
"Yeah."
There’s a brief lull. You catch yourself tugging at the edge of your cardigan—a nervous habit you never quite broke. The warmth of the apartment is settling in you quite comfortably, but there’s something about sitting still under Anna’s gentle scrutiny that makes you restless.
From the kitchen, there’s the unmistakable clink of glass, followed by a muffled, “shit.”
Anna exhales, long-suffering. “I don’t know why I even bother buying nice things.”
“‘Oy,” Khol’s voice carries from the other room, “get in here and help. We have, like, seven things to carry.”
You take that as your cue, trailing after Anna into the kitchen. Between the three of you, it’s quick work—bowls of warm, brothy risotto in hand, glasses of white wine balanced carefully between fingers.
By the time you step back into the living room, Khol is already dropping onto the blue accent chair near the window with all the dramatics of someone who’s worked far too hard for far too little.
You settle into your usual spot, Anna beside you. You don’t touch your food. Your appetite’s still in remission, though it’s been steadily improving lately.
Khol notices. “Now, why the hell aren’t you eating?” They shoot you a side-eye like you’ve personally offended them. “I knew it. You put something in this, didn’t you?”
“Jesus, Khol,” Anna sighs, exasperated, already two spoonfuls in. “Your diet was literally gas station burritos and eight-pack Coors before I moved in. You’ll live.”
She pauses, though, casting you a look. “Don’t get me wrong—this is really good.”
“Ha,” you retort as Khol prods suspiciously at a floating mushroom. You glare. “Are you fucking kidding me—”
“Alright, alright.��� With an exaggerated sigh, Khol finally takes a bite. They chew once, twice—eyes narrowed in concentration, acting like some hard-ass seasoned judge from Top Chef. You can practically see them digging for something snarky to say—until, begrudgingly, they nod.
“Shit. This is actually pretty good. Who are you?”
You preen at the praise.
For a while, there’s nothing but the quiet clinking of spoons against ceramic, the occasional satisfied hum. It’s… nice. Comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in what feels like forever.
You’ve missed this.
Missed being here. Missed being with people.
Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the last few bites of risotto, Khol angles their head toward you, their curiosity piqued. “How come you’re free today? You on leave or something?”
You swirl the drink in your hand, watching the light catch on the amber surface before answering. “Oh, I quit my job.”
There’s a beat of silence. You don’t know what reaction you were expecting, but Khol just blinks at you. "Huh. Finally."
Anna looks mildly more concerned. "You quit?"
You nod, stretching your legs out beneath the coffee table. “Yeah. The OT was getting ridiculous, and they had me working night shifts again. That was kind of the last straw for me.”
Khol grunts in agreement. “Good fucking riddance. That job was killing you.” They pause for a beat, turning serious, contemplative. “You’re not hung up about it, are you? You’ve been bitching about that job for ages.”
You exhale through your nose, staring at the rim of your glass. “Yeah, no. I’m glad I left.” The words come easily, and they’re mostly true. But still—there’s something about suddenly having all this space, this aimless in-between, that makes you antsy.
A thought strikes you, and you glance up. “Hey, you know if Marion's still looking for someone to work part-time at the bistro?”
Khol raises an eyebrow. "You looking to apply? It’s minimum wage, just telling you in advance."
"That’s fine," you assure them. "I just need something on the side. I’m doing freelance work right now, I just want something to fill in the gaps."
Anna perks up at that. "I think that’s a great idea. I can hit up Marion later, but I’m pretty sure they’re still looking."
Khol stares at you, and for once, they don’t have a quip lined up. No sharp-edged humor, no quick banter—just a quiet look of something almost foreign on their face. Pride. Maybe even relief. You’ve worried them. The realization jars you like a pebble dropped into a clear pond, sending ripples through the stillness of your self-imposed isolation. You hadn’t meant to, not really. It wasn’t like you deliberately wanted to disappear... But you did, didn’t you? You let the days blur into weeks, then months, telling yourself naively that no one would notice if you just—vanished for a while. Five months, to be exact.
You press your lips together, clearing your throat against the tightness creeping in. “Thanks,” you say, quiet but sincere. “Really.”
Khol snorts, and the moment shatters. “You can show your thanks by knocking ten percent off the cocktails when we visit.”
You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation. “Get me the job first, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Anna grins, raising her glass. “Now, that’s the spirit.”
––––
You get the job.
You stand in front of the fogged-up mirror, dragging your palm across the wet glass. The reflection that stares back is warped, smudged—half-formed, half-there—but unequivocally yours.
A month ago, you wouldn’t have been able to say that with certainty. Back then, the figure in the mirror had been more ghost than person—distant, spectral. Fractured. Someone you watched from the outside, not as a host of the flesh you inhabit.
Now, though, the pieces are starting to slot back into place. Some are still missing, and others don’t quite fit as they once did. You doubt it will ever return to how it was… But slowly, a familiar shape is coming back into focus. More than the shadow of a woman, but you. Time moves like water carving through rock—gradual, barely perceptible, but steady. Inevitable.
The shifts are diminutive. A morning where you wake up feeling less crushed by the weight of grief in your chest. An afternoon where you suddenly break into laughter, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard it in weeks. A quiet night where you go to bed without feeling like you’re stuck frozen in an endless loop of wishing, waiting for the impossible.
You’re here, alive. Present. And for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you’re doing more than just holding on.
(You think he’d be proud of you.) And the thought doesn’t leave you aching the way it used to.
––––
“You think I can handle taking care of another living thing? Like a plant?” You ask Maru, glancing at him lounging by the window, right where a sliver of afternoon sunlight spills across the floor. “I mean, I raised you well enough, I think. But you’re pretty self-sufficient anyway.” Maru looks unimpressed. His tail flicks once—dismissive, uninterested—before he returns to grooming himself, utterly indifferent to both your question and your sudden enthusiasm for gardening. “Well, if your dad can grow plants in that dungeon he calls a base, I’m sure I can manage,” you mutter unconvincingly. “How hard can it be?”
–
By the middle of the second week into your little project, you begrudgingly admit that your tiny repotted begonia isn’t exactly thriving. You don’t want to be a pessimist, but the (browning) margins seem to curl inward—more than they should, if the reference pics on that “Indoor Succulents” blog you’re subscribed to are anything to go by.
You eye it dubiously, trying to stay gung-ho about the whole thing, forcing yourself to look up care tips again. It’s just a plant. Not rocket science. So you do the research, gather more supplies, and give it another shot. You reposition it closer to where the sun lands—earning a disgruntled hiss from the sunbathing feline—and sprinkle a careful amount of water just beneath the leaves, closer to the root. Then you lean back, waiting, tapping your foot impatiently like it’s supposed to just... fix itself.
–
The next few days pass with you watching it more than you’d care to admit—checking, hoping, second-guessing yourself.
You narrow your eyes at the leaves, more russet than Inca Flame red, still hanging limp like a sad testament to your lack of skill.
But you keep at it, because you’re nothing if not stubborn.
–
A single flower has bloomed.
You stand there, spray bottle in hand, caught in quiet awe at the metallic pink sprout peeking through the foliage. It’s small, delicate, barely more than a bud, but unmistakably there—nestled among heart-shaped leaves that, for the first time in weeks, look alive. Brighter.
A faint smile tugs at your lips. It’s not groundbreaking, not by a long shot. But it’s something.
The fragile blossom clings onto dear life, stubbornly seeking the sun rays, inching toward the warmth it needs to grow—larger, stronger.
You can’t wait to bear witness to it.
––––
You’re not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation; all you could recall past the sweat blurring your vision is the memory of being in front of the reception desk, pen in hand, scrawling your name onto the sign-up sheet for beginner boxing lessons.
It’s not… something you planned on doing, really. You’d been showing up for the past week, trying to convince yourself that fitness was something you could get into. Something you could stick with. But this one’s more of an impulse decision, fueled by a mix of post-workout endorphins and the misplaced confidence that sometimes follows after an extra few—unpremeditated!—minutes on the elliptical.
It all started with a casual glance at a flyer taped to the wall beside the water dispenser.
GET TOUGHER, FASTER, STRONGER! SIGN UP NOW!
The cheesy tagline stared you down as you were in the middle of refilling your teal green AquaFlask. And for some dumb reason—sheer curiosity, definitely not because it reminded you of a certain someone—you thought: Why not?
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you’d marched straight up to the nearest staff at the counter, credit card in hand, and asked to sign up. Now, as you stare at the buff woman currently goading you to hit harder, reality sets in and you feel a little lightheaded. Even slightly delirious.
“Up, up–” your trainer urges, somehow not even remotely out of breath, despite being thirty grueling minutes into the session. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, red-faced and sweating like a fucking pig. “Keep your arms up at all times, alright?”
You pant, nodding weakly, fixing your posture. She gives you an approving nod in return.
It’s part of the whole self-improvement thing, anyway. Pushing yourself. Fitness, jazz, and all that. You’ve never had much inclination for sports or anything remotely physically taxing, as far as you can recall.
…Or maybe that decision was made for you the moment you tried out for volleyball in high school and took a spike straight to the face. A memory so humiliating, that your brain did you a favor and buried it deep in the recesses of your mind.
But things are different now! You’re trying new things. You’ve done wall climbing, aerobics, even pulled a hamstring attempting HIIT Tae Bo. And if getting punched in the face is the next step in this… wellness journey, then, well, so be it. You’ll take it with a brave face and, hopefully, minimal bruising to both body and ego.
You slog through two sets of combos and thirty jab-straight-hook-uppercuts, punching like your life depends on it. You’re wheezing like an asthmatic child, and you’re about one bad punch away from toppling over.
Then, mercifully—
“Okay, that’s enough for today.”
Oh, thank god.
“You did good,” she tacks on, flashing you an encouraging smile, like you didn’t just spend the last half hour flailing at the focus mitts with all the grace of a wrecking ball.
You stare at her, unconvinced. Did I? Because from where you’re standing—wobbling, really—you’re pretty sure you looked closer to an overstimulated toddler throwing hands with gravity, but sure. It must’ve been in the fine print, to segue in a little positive reinforcement. Probably to keep people from bolting after the first session.
Not that you’re planning to. No, of course not. You’re just... reevaluating some things. Like your life choices. And your capacity to lift your arms tomorrow. As you trudge your way out of the yoga-studio-turned-boxing-area, still gulping for air and very aware of the soreness settling into your limbs, someone calls out.
“Hey! Wait up!”
You turn your head, blinking in confusion. A guy—mid to late twenties, give or take—jogs up to you, looking offensively too fresh compared to how you feel. “Oh, hi. Sorry, do you mean me?”
He laughs as he slows to a stop, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Yeah, you. I’ve seen you training with Coach. Just wanted to say—you’re improving.”
You blink. Wait, what?
A wave of mortification rolls through you. Shit, you didn’t know you had an audience. “Uh—thanks, I guess?”
You shift your weight awkwardly, clutching your boxing gloves tightly against your chest.
His grin turns sheepish, as though he realizes how that might’ve come off. “Fuck, sorry. That came out weird, didn’t it? I swear, I’m not, like, watching the whole thing or anything.” He makes a vague gesture to his left. “The studio’s right in my line of sight when I’m doing TRX reps. Hard not to notice.”
You force a smile. “Ah, yeah. Figures.”
“I’m Byron, by the way,” he offers, sticking out a hand.
Now that you get a proper look at him, you notice he’s got this kind of… geeky charm going for him. Curly hair, sleepy brown eyes behind round, rimless glasses, and shy boy-next-door vibes—except for the fact that he’s jacked.
(Honestly? Work.)
You give him your name, still smiling awkwardly. You’re about to wave goodbye and turn away when— “So, what are you doing later?”
Um.
You hesitate. “I’m, uh… heading straight home after this?” Your voice comes out a little more uncertain than you intended, mostly because you’re not really sure why he’s still talking to you.
“Yeah, ‘course,” he replies quickly, glancing down like he’s suddenly nervous. “I just… thought I’d ask if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime?”
Oh.
It takes a moment for the question to fully register. The first thought that pops in your head is: Wait, how does he know I’m a barista?
… The second thought is one of pure disbelief. Holy shit, did I just get asked out? At the gym? By the Temu version of Peter Parker?
Your face burns hotter than it did mid-workout, caught completely off guard.
“I—woah, um.” You stumble over your words, eyes quickly darting away from him. “Sorry, I already have… a boyfriend. If—if that’s what you’re leading up to.”
You say it like a question. He picks up on it.
“You don’t sound too convinced,” he comments with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “If you’re not interested, you can just say that, you know.”
A prickle of irritation flares up, followed by something sharper—something that stings. You push it down. “No, he’s just… not around.” “Ah.” He clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Long distance?” “…Yeah.” You have no idea.
He shrugs, undeterred. “Alright, no pressure. We could always just hang out as friends, if you want.”
I… don’t think I do. “Um, maybe?” you answer instead, forcing out a laugh.
“Oh, come on,” he says, his grin widening. “You can even introduce me to your boyfriend,” he emphasizes the word out, “when he gets back. Does he work out? We could all hit the gym together.”
Social anxiety is afraid of this man, you think belatedly. Unfortunately for him, you’re the very embodiment of what fears him.
You’re so out of your element that all you can manage is, “He boxes too, actually.”
“Yeah? He any good?”
That gets an involuntary snort out of you. Unthinkingly, you say, “Could probably beat you up.”
Byron laughs, startled but amused, shaking his head as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—message received.” He flashes you a wide smile. “Well, if you change your mind about the coffee, I’ll be around.” He jerks his chin toward the pack fly by the corner. “There, usually.”
Okay, nerd. Despite yourself, you can’t help but find the whole thing slightly hilarious. Then again, you find humor in the dumbest things. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You offer him a quick, half-hearted wave, trying (and failing) to mask your embarrassment with an exaggerated, too-casual show of nonchalance. It’s so painfully awkward, you can feel yourself internally dying from cringe.
Without another word, you spin on your heel and start speed-walking away, practically running back to the safety of your personal space.
Smooth.
––––
It’s another relatively easy night at the bistro. You’re on the last two hours of your shift, and you’re carrying a single glass of roseberry mule to serve at table four. As you round the corner, you catch sight of a student, glasses perched low on her nose, completely absorbed in a thick coursebook on Programming Languages. Papers are scattered across the table, and she looks to be utterly engrossed in her readings, unaware of the world around her.
You don’t want to bother her more than necessary, about to set the drink down on the only clear space—by the iPad propped up on a tablet holder to her right—when something red catches your attention.
A familiar pair of crimson eyes stops you dead in your tracks.
For a moment, you feel like you’re suspended in time. The sharp memory of a similar instance where you’re in her place, and he’s there, keeping you company while he’s polishing a gun burns through your brain, and you don’t–you can’t think—
You stand there, rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and unmoving. Then, the girl’s gaze shifts to you, and a hot flush spreads across her cheeks, betraying her surprise.
With swift fingers, she locks the screen with a quick flick on the power button, pulling you away and breaking you from the echoes of the past.
“Oh, shit,” she giggles, a nervous edge to her voice. “That’s embarrassing.”
You shake your head, forcing yourself back to the present moment. “No—no, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle weakly, setting the drink down beside her with shaky hands. “Cute guy, honestly.”
That makes her giggle louder, her eyes bright with an almost conspiratorial glint. “Oh my god, you have no idea.”
Fuck—you can’t breathe.
––––
The night hangs thick with stifling heat, accompanied by the steady ticking of the clock as you catch your breath, your broken moans too loud in the heavy silence. The sheets cling to your feverish skin, damp and uncomfortable, as your body moves in a rhythm that feels unnatural now, but still—but always—familiar.
Your chest rises and falls in shallow, rapid breaths as you force the draconic toy deep inside you. The heat, the fire—it licks at your skin, making your whole body yearn for more. To chase more of the feeling, to chase more of the memory of him.
Errant strands of hair stick to your forehead, your chest flushed and burning, a quiet throb spreading through you with every friction, every desperate movement.
Your body aches, a relentless thrum urging you to push deeper, to find something—anything—to fill the gaping hole inside you, a wound you’ve tried to stitch shut over months, now threatening to tear its way open again, once more ripping from the seams.
A sharp pressure builds inside you. Your body stretches too far, too much, struggling to take in what it can’t quite handle. It burns in a way that hurts, but you need it. You need to feel more, to fill the emptiness, to grasp at something that feels real.
“Yours, yours–” you tremble, desperate. “Yours. Just yours. Please.”
-
-
-
You lie in the wake of it—pleasure fading into something heavier, regret creeping in like a shadow, waiting as always.
“I miss you,” you whisper in the dark. You always do.
You try to ignore the pull of it, the sharp descent that comes with the high.
You were doing so well.
But it’s fine. You’re fine.
Everything’s fine.
The words swirl and echo in your mind, until they’re swallowed by sounds that ring hollow. You let the moment wash over you, sinking beneath the weight of the tides, where sorrow and longing blur with the fleeting warmth of what you can’t keep.
Tomorrow will be another day. Another chance to try again.
For now, you let go of your grip on the fragile raft of sanity you’ve built, painstakingly, for months on end.
Tonight, you let yourself drown once more in the somber depths of loneliness and despair, confined within these four walls that feel—once more—like a penitentiary.
––––
The plane begins its slow descent, and through the window, the world comes into view—large swathes of land interrupted by winding roads that seem to follow no rhyme, nor pattern. A river glints faintly beneath the fading sun, while the sky turns a dull blue, a washed-out slate, streaked with the last embers of daylight.
Below, the small city stirs.
Tiny specks of color flicker to life, lanterns strung along the streets like beads on a thread, marking the season, an ending, and the inevitable turning of time. A chill hangs in the air, the wind whipping past you from the half-open window of the taxi, sharp and crisp in a way that you can only find in the province.
Your hometown.
It all rushes past in a blur of light and shadow, an eclectic mix of old and new—some buildings unchanged, others unfamiliar, as if they’d sprung up in the years you’ve been away. It’s been a while since you last came back, long enough for the roads to feel... foreign, almost. Though muscle memory stirs when the car takes a turn. One you could have easily navigated even with your eyes closed.
Only your sister lives here now, her and her family—a couple of hundred miles far. Far enough to feel like another world, yet close enough for the past to catch up the moment you lay eyes on the old two-story house tucked away on the quaint cul-de-sac of this suburban neighborhood.
The residential property was left to her, scrawled onto the title in an act of generosity, perhaps. Or maybe as a weight your mother never intended to carry, something meant to anchor her eldest child while she carved a different life for herself elsewhere. Free-spirited as she is, she left with the ease of someone shedding an old coat, slipping into the shoes of another, barely a glance over her shoulder.
But houses remember. And as you step out of the vehicle, your feet meeting the rough asphalt that once belonged to your childhood, you wonder if they remember you too.
"Maru, Maru!" Your five-year-old niece cries the moment she spots the grumpy feline peering through the mesh of his portable prison.
"What—no excitement for me too?" you tease, ruffling her hair. She giggles, scrunching up her nose.
"Auntie, hi! Hi!"
You snort at her enthusiasm, setting the carrier down. The second you pull at the zipper, Maru springs out, landing with a soft thud before stalking off with his usual air of disdain. Your niece shrieks with delight.
"Ah! Cat!"
"Well, there go the chances of her socializing with her brother," your sister remarks dryly from the doorway, sauntering closer. "Hey, stranger."
"Hey," you greet, hoisting a handful of paper bags. "Where do I dump these?"
She eyes the bags. "Any of those for me?"
"You have three kids, and one of them insisted on a Lego set. Do you know how much those cost?" You shoot her a flat look. "You’re getting socks."
"Wow, stingy." She huffs but takes some of the bags anyway, hitching one onto her hip as she grabs your other hand-carry.
You step inside, and the house greets you with a riot of lights and color. Plastic tinsel and bright string lights drape across every visible surface—along the bannister, around doorways—leaving no space untouched by the festive chaos. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, nearly buried beneath an avalanche of baubles and sentimental ornaments collected over the years.
The room feels swallowed by the exuberance of it all, an almost overwhelming jamboree of holiday cheer.
It’s gaudy, excessive, and completely over-the-top, but beneath it all, the bones of your childhood home remain unchanged—familiar in a way that settles deep in your chest. The Narra wood floors are still scuffed with the marks of time, there’s still the distinct tang of turpentine mixed with waxy resin and citrus you’ve long since associated with home, and the odd decorative masks still line the far wall, their painted expressions frozen mid-celebration.
Your eyes land on the canvas floater above the mantel—a whimsical cross-stitch of three women flying kites, their stitched dresses rippling in imagined wind. You remember it well, though you never quite understood why your mother had chosen that particular scene to painstakingly sew into existence. Still, it belongs here, another piece of the house's patchwork history.
Your gaze shifts to the couch, where Andrew, your sister's husband, is sprawled out, one arm lazily draped over the backrest, the other holding his phone.
He flicks his gaze up at you, offering a half-hearted wave before turning back to whatever has him so absorbed on the screen. Beside him, your three-year-old nephew is perched on his knees, bouncing with energy as he mirrors Bluey's movements on the TV with exaggerated enthusiasm, his tiny arms flailing in childlike glee.
You sigh inwardly, rolling your eyes. Typical.
“There’s a few more hours before dinner. Want to hang out in the kitchen while I roast the ham?” She asks casually, setting down your bags by the foot of the stairs. “Actually, scratch that—you’re in charge of the punch.”
“You just want a head start on the drinks,” you tease, the banter flowing easily between you. “Hey, where’s the little squirt?”
She points toward the small crib, near the island counter. “She finally stopped crying, thank god. Don’t wake her up, or you’ll be the one in charge of putting her back to sleep.”
The two of you slip into the kitchen, where the air already carries the promise of dinner—cloves and brown sugar blending nicely with the lingering scent of citrus. A tray of ham sits on the counter, prepped and ready, the scored surface glistening under the fluorescent light.
Your sister pulls a bottle of Luisita Oro Rum and Agimat Gin from the second-to-last cupboard and places them on the counter in front of you.
"Go ham," she quips.
You give her a flat look. "You think you’re funny.”
She shrugs, unfazed, and turns her attention back to where she’d left off before your arrival.
The two of you fall into a natural rhythm, the kind that comes from years of cooking together. You work your way through cans of Del Monte, the metallic clinks filling the space as you drain the syrup and dump chunks of mixed fruit into the large punch bowl.
Your sister leans against the counter nearby, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the oven door, as if sheer willpower alone could make the meat cook faster.
In the background, the soft drone of the TV drifts in from the living room, punctuated by your nephew’s occasional giggles.
There’s no rush, no need to fill the silence with anything more than the occasional clink of utensils against glass and the low humming of kitchen appliances. The day is winding down to a close, and for now, everything is alright.
“So, Mom called,” she says casually, one arm braced on the counter as she leans in, glancing at you. “Kept calling, actually.”
“Mm.” You reply noncommittally, shaking the last can’s contents into the crystal bowl, watching as the fruit chunks bob lazily in the pool of alcohol.
“She’s worried about you.”
You don’t answer.
“She was. She is.” Her voice shifts, more serious now. She watches you closely, noting your lack of reaction. “You know that, right?”
Your fingers tighten around the can opener, but you pull your gaze away from the bowl. “I know.”
She sighs, resigned, already familiar with this song and dance. Familiar enough to know there’s no winning this one, not tonight. Not anytime soon. “I am too.”
You blink, before looking away. “Oh.”
And maybe she does worry—your mother. But any hope of truly knowing is swallowed by the chasm between you, the one that keeps your conversations at surface level, never breaching the depths beyond.
Your body, born from hers, perhaps more alike than you realize, might have been brought into this world with the same pains that she’s carried. The pains of separation. The unresolved hurt of being unwillingly removed from your person—her former husband, your father—and that if you and your mother were closer, you could have opened up about your own situation. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel like a ship that has lost its ballast, drifting endlessly in the same turbulent seas for the longest time.
But you are your mother’s daughter, and she is her mother’s daughter. There is the truth that the women in your family are not the best communicators, nor do they wear their hearts on their sleeves. So you were born mute and overly sensitive. Pain drips from you, unnoticed, like a purposeless leak in the heart. You’ll carry it with you until you die.
“But you look… okay,” she observes, cocking her head. “Are you okay?”
You swallow. For the same reason you compare your mother to a storm you can't outrun and your sister to an intermittent drizzle, you find it easier to admit, “I haven’t… been okay for a while.”
Not wanting to bring the mood down, especially on a day like today, you quickly add, “Things are better now, though.”
She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Could be a little more specific there, but I’ll take it.” She gives you an exasperatedly fond look. “You let me know if that changes anytime soon, ‘kay?”
Your lips quirk in the faintest semblance of a smile. “Yeah, okay.”
–
It’s ten minutes before midnight.
You’re leaning against the island counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, nursing a glass of the fruit punch (though it’s mostly gin, with the teensiest amount of fruit), watching your sister’s family at a distance as they eagerly wait for the clock to strike twelve. The blinds of the large living room window have been pulled up, giving an unobstructed view of the sky, ready for the first firework to light up the dark.
For a moment, you feel like an outsider, watching through a lens, as if you’re not quite part of the scene. There’s a strange sense of detachment—voyeuristic, almost—as though you're peering in on a private, intimate moment.
Your sister cradles the infant in her arms, and that all-too-familiar pang stirs to life—the same one that always does when you look at her.
You can't quite place what you're feeling, exactly. It’s tumultuous, and it’s complex. Andrew’s practically dozing off in his seat, and you see your sister shake her head in mild annoyance. Your nephew, fighting to keep his eyes open, starts to fuss.
Something tightens inside your chest.
“Andrew,” she hisses, startling the man awake. He blinks, disoriented, before spotting their son and the early signs of an explosive tantrum.
He sighs, and pulls the boy closer to him. “Hey, hey, little guy. Look at the sky. In just a couple of minutes, the lights are gonna go boom-boom.”
Your nephew sniffs, his eyes blinking up at him as he processes the words. “Boom-boom?”
“Yeah! Just like the one we watched on TV!”
The kid’s face visibly perks up at that, bad mood quickly forgotten. “Boom-boom!”
You watch as your sister’s gaze softens, and a small smile replaces the earlier frown on her face.
And in that instant, you understand.
You look at your sister and, for a brief moment, all you see is a wretched mirror of yourself. She is all of your fears, all of your failures, and all of what you could’ve been rolled into one. Barely in her mid-thirties, and yet already carrying the weight of a family: three kids, a husband who feels like a faded echo of your father—a man who didn’t quite measure up, who never did, and just as unreliable.
You feel the suffocating weight of it all, of being tied to a place that’s meant to be a home but feels more like a tomb, marking the passing of dreams unspoken. She’ll grow old here, buried in the same soil you both sprang from, fading into the landscape of this town that swallows its own.
You look at her and you almost feel the repressed pain of missing the last semester of college to give birth, the lament of a missed opportunity that life has stolen from her.
You feel her pain as if it’s yours. You feel it in the marrow of your bones—her blood flowing through you. “3…” You look at her, and it feels like seeing someone bound, held down by an anchor around her foot, unable to break through the surface of freedom. You look at her and you see dreams once aglow, reduced to cinders. You look at her and see—
She glances up at you.
Oh. “2…” In the fleeting moment where your eyes meet—eyes you two share with your mother—you feel so small.
Just a kid. Shortsighted and unfairly dismissive. Too blind to see your sister’s quiet victories, too selfish to admit you’ve diminished them just to feel less alone about your own. A child grasping for meaning, unfair in the ways only children can be. “1…” And in the fraction of a second before midnight, it's as if you’ve been doused awake.
You see her anew—what seemed like monotony is really the bedrock of stability; tenacity in place of routine. An almost single-minded doggedness to make something out of this life. You see the steadfast strength she possesses, the kind that gets her up every morning, to face the world and all its demands without question. With purpose.
You see resilience. Compassion. Traits that you’ve always lacked, that you’ve long resented, the same traits your mother never learned to embody.
And now you see your niece in her arms, born from this, and you name the indescribable feeling that dwells in you—borne from the pure look of adoration in your sister’s eyes for her youngest daughter—as envy.
You know, with utmost certainty, that she will be okay, because she has your sister as her mother, and she is so, so loved.
As you watch them, something inside you shifts—a deep, aching realization.
You see… home. Something you've always longed for but never truly found. “Happy new year!” The spell breaks. The two of you startle at the sudden eruption of fireworks, the distant chorus of car horns blaring from the streets outside.
Your niece and nephew jump and shriek, their laughter ringing through the room, celebrating something they barely understand but find joy in anyway. The baby in your sister’s arms lets out a wail at the commotion, and she is soothed instantly with murmurs of soft assurances. Her husband struggles upright—then, with no small amount of effort, leans forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head.
The image before you is far from perfect, but it’s theirs.
“Auntie, auntie!” The little rascals cry out in unison, their voices overlapping in excitement. “‘appy n’year!”
A breathless, almost pained laugh escapes you. Still, you smile as you respond with your own, “happy new year!”
You’re tired—tired of running, of measuring yourself against the ghosts of your past. Tired of carrying the weight of a childhood that’s left you with more questions than answers, of making excuses for wounds that should have healed long since. You've spent so much time mourning the growing pains, the irreparable, that you never stopped to see what’s in front of you.
This moment, this realization, feels like the final missing piece in the fractured puzzle of who you are.
The new year arrives, marked by the crackle of fireworks and the loud cheer from your family.
This time, you won’t hesitate. You’ll choose to embrace the change, both good and bad, with open arms. With the quiet resolve of someone finally ready to move forward.
You lift your gaze just as a brilliant burst of red explodes into the night sky, its iridescent glow bleeding into a softer silver before fading into the dark.
A warmth settles deep in your chest—bittersweet, but steady. A quiet peace.
Happy new year, my love. . . . . . . .
.
.
.
.
. . .
The air at the threshold of Vagrant’s land is restless. Volatile. A hazy distortion ripples through it, folding and unfolding, like a lost mirage—an area of transition between worlds. Porch collapse, he calls it.
Sylus has stood here countless times, watching the way this anomalous disturbance twists the very fabric of this reality, how it flickers in and out of form, erratic. Impossible to predict.
It had taken him longer than he likes to admit to understand the phenomena for what it’s truly worth.
Not just an alternate space caused by some spartan energy field. Not just any other protofield. But a thread. A connection. A door.
A fault line between realities, an entryway that hums with the possibility of you.
Since the moment the idea took hold, he had thought of little else. It has consumed him in every waking moment; his entire being seeming to bend toward a singular purpose—getting to you. He had torn through endless streams of data, followed every unstable pulse of energy, mapped its fluctuations down to the smallest inconsistency.
Nights bled into days, and days bled into weeks, until he can no longer keep track. Not that the passage of time meant much to him at this point.
He’s worked tirelessly through the stillness, through the storms of uncertainty, through the aching silence left by your absence. Ever since you’ve exchanged your temporary goodbyes.
He had measured everything he could—the unstable frequency of radio signals streaming through the interstice. He had traced the influx in real time; recording the rate of deterioration, isolating the waveform, and filtering out outside interferences.
But for all the data he gathered, for all the precision in his calculations, the core of this phenomenon remained just out of reach. His knowledge on the matter is rudimentary at most. He could waste years observing for abnormalities, trying to decipher how its presence has disrupted the very threads of this universe, but the why and how of it all will still elude him.
Still, theory matters less than function. He doesn’t need to understand the full depth of it. He only needs to harness it.
It’s a gamble.
Contrary to whatever reputation he’s earned for himself, Sylus has never been one to play his cards recklessly. He deals in certainties, in probabilities stacked in his favor, in risks that—while dangerous—are still within his grasp to control. He has never been the type to leap without knowing where he’d land.
But this is different.
He has never needed to, before. Never had a reason to throw himself into the unknown with no assurance of survival, no way to predict the outcome.
He had no reason to—until you.
Now, it matters less whether or not the odds of his survival are abysmal, that he has no precedent to follow. That your world might reject him entirely. None of it matters. Because if the choice is between staying and never reaching you, or plunging into the great, endless unknown—
He’ll take the leap, every time. Without hesitation.
He’ll leave this world behind, step beyond the edges of everything that has ever defined him, and venture into lands unseen, uncharted. Unknown. He doesn’t know what awaits him on the other side. If he’ll make it there in one piece. If he will make it there at all.
Sylus has never really questioned why he’s the anomaly in this world. The curiosities of his existence are yours to ponder. After all, he finds that he doesn’t care much of the answer as much as he cares about being with you.
Because wherever you are—that is home.
He takes a step forward, and the universe dissolves into a blinding light.
-
-
-
Sylus wakes to the sensation of weight.
Something presses on him heavily, sinking into his limbs like gravity itself is wrapping around him for the first time.
The ground beneath him is unfamiliar, uneven—tangible in a way he’s never felt before. His fingertips press into the damp earth, leaving the faintest imprint, yielding beneath his touch. The scent of soil rises around him; a rich, bitter brown.
This world does not recognize him, yet it cradles him like its own all the same.
Above, the sky erupts.
Fireworks split open the night, streaks of color exploding and dissipating in an instant—too fleeting to hold, too bright to ignore. A flashbang of incandescent reds and fluorescent greens, followed by bursts of crackling gold and shimmering silver scatter into tiny pinpricks before fading into the darkness.
The air is heavier here, denser in a way that feels almost… alien. It clings to the contours of his new form, seeps into his lungs with every breath.
And oh, how it burns. Not in pain, but in its sheer presence. It rushes into him not as mere oxygen but as something real. Something palpable. He’s lost in the sensation.
He exhales. Then winces.
Immediately, he feels it—the weakness. The brittleness of this new body. Gone is the invulnerability he once wielded so effortlessly, the certainty that nothing could touch him unless he allowed it.
That certainty is gone now, stripped away the moment he crossed the threshold.
He is flesh and bone. Finite. Mortal.
A lesser man might have feared it.
But in the middle of this empty field, miles away from civilization, Sylus can only laugh.
He tips his head back, reeling from the sheer impossibility of it all, eyes tracing the brilliant display above—as if committing it to memory, a coronation of sorts. Of existence. Of arrival. Of a life finally his own.
Reborn. And for the first time in his existence, he is alive.
––––
It’s summer—the summer that marks two years since he left.
Two years. It’s enough time to feel the weight of it, but not enough to make the events feel like something that happened a lifetime ago.
The seasons cycle once more, as they always do, pushing time forward with a steady, indifferent rhythm. And with that change comes a familiar pang—a bittersweet ache, neither grief nor regret, just the weight of knowing that nothing stays the same. Mono no aware.
You’re closer to thirty now, and the thought doesn’t terrify you as much as it did before. Your hair’s in a pixie cut—short and sleek, although the edges are a little ragged from the half-assed trimming you gave it a few days ago.
It would have made you feel stupid, once upon a time, for trying out something drastic for a new look. Instead, you just take it for what it is—one more thing you did because you wanted to. Like the rest of the choices you’ve made over the past two years. It’s yours. Uneven, impulsive, maybe a little questionable. But yours.
It’s liberating. Even if it makes your head look like a pencil.
The voice—the one that picks at your face, your body, your thoughts, everything down to the last imperfection—never really shuts up. It’s quieter now, easier to ignore, but it still lurks in the background, waiting for an opening, a moment of weakness. Maybe it always will. Maybe that’s just the price of being human.
But you don’t fight it anymore. You don’t let it drag you down to a breaking point. You carry yourself differently now, you'd say. No pep in your step just yet, but you don’t feel the need to drag your heels either. Literally and figuratively.
The change has come in waves—sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh—but it’s there, marking you, marking the passage of time. Just like the earth, just like the seasons, you’ve shifted and grown. And perhaps that’s enough.
The sky is ablaze now, a deepening canvas of pinks and purples as the sun sinks lazily to the west. The fiery orange light spills through the large windows, bleeding into every corner of the room, and the world outside seems to slow, caught in the hour before dusk.
You’re behind the counter, wiping down plates with the kind of ease that comes from repetition, the motion so ingrained in you that it barely registers anymore. It’s all routine—the rhythm of it, the quiet hum of the bistro, the clinking of porcelain. The air is thick with the sticky smell of warm pastries, and it’s the sort of evening that feels almost liminal. A moment suspended in time.
You hear the soft tinkling of the door chimes, signaling the arrival of another customer.
It’s a soft, unassuming sound, barely noticeable against the evening lull. You swipe your hands across your apron, turning on instinct, your mouth already forming the usual greeting.
“Hi, welcome to—”
The words die in your throat.
It’s a slow unfolding—almost a gradual realization that stretches across the seconds like the last rays of sun dipping beneath the horizon. He stands in the doorway, a figure outlined in gold, and his presence fills the space between you, no barrier that separates, and it feels... impossible. Unimaginable. Inevitable.
His height is the first thing you notice. He’s taller than you expected, and you know he’ll tower over you, even at a distance. His hair is dark now, the color of midnight, almost—not the silver you once traced with your fingers in your mind. The cut is still similar to what you’ve always known it to be, though a little more unkempt, as if he’s lived in this body long enough for it to take on its own wear.
Then his eyes. The red is gone—no longer the shade of crimson that used to see right through you, those sanguine pools you once loved. In its place, a stormy grey, deep and impossibly expressive, pulling you in like an undertow. The color is striking, alien in its own way, yet there’s a warmth buried beneath it—and the familiarity of it tugs at you.
Even with the changes, even though you’ve never met the person standing in front of you, you’ll know him anywhere.
There’s a shift in the room, a subtle, yet unmistakable change in the air. It’s as if the whole bistro has drawn in a breath—and you with it. Time stretches thin, each passing second expanding into what feels like an eternity.
Your eyes lock—and for a moment, nothing else exists.
It’s as if the world has shifted off its axis. Or, perhaps more accurately, it’s as though a piece that’s always been missing has finally snapped into place.
Something settles in you, something foreign and indescribably familiar at the same time.
Sylus smiles.
“Hello, my love. Have I kept you waiting?”
It feels like home.
____
“Now I found myself this kind of love, I can't believe it I'll never leave it behind I thought I'd never get to feel another fucking feeling But I feel— This love, this love, this love Oh, I feel it.”
End A/N: So this is done! Wow! I'm kind of proud of myself for writing something this long in the span of, idk, three months? Basically, the entire duration of my "vacation" back home. Now, with another term and a busier schedule coming up, I really wanted to finish this series before life catches up to me. *sobs* Anyway, I'm so, so happy about the reception of this fic, and you've all been so sweet :') Again, thank you for reading! I'll see you in the spin-off, or whatever shit I put out next haha <3 Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira
#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads x you#lads x reader#love and deepspace fic#self aware au#sylus qin
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Carry On Countdown Day 12 - Normal
For this year's COC I've decided to put together daily fic rec lists! Let me know if you find any new favorite reads from these <3
For todays prompt I've gone with fics that are about Shepard Love or feature him prominently
Bro Under the Mistletoe by @nick-eyre
Rated T, 900 words
Is it gay to kiss your bro under the mistletoe?
Sleeper Agents by @mostlymaudlin
Rated M, 2,189 words
“You should really put a case on that,” I say. “You’re going to crack the screen.” “Simon can fix it.” Baz yawns, rolling toward me now. He’s got one cheek mushed up against the pillow, hair in his eyes. “It’s his love language.” I snort, and Baz finally cracks a grin. “Do you want to have a cuddle, then?” I ask. Baz rolls his eyes. He’s a treat in the mornings. An absolute ray of sunshine. He’s lucky he’s pretty enough to pull it off. - Shepard and Baz have a cuddle. Simon gets in there too. (Part of the Stoner AU verse.)
Cryptozoology 101 by @scone-lover
Rated E, 3,200 words
I think it’s more than being a little into cryptozoology. I mean, Mothman’s got me on my knees, pushed against a tree with my pants down to my ankles, so really— cryptozoology is about to be into me. aka: The Exclusive Monsterfucking Diaries of Shepard from Omaha (2015-2017, illustrated)
Bangers & Smash by @scone-lover
Rated E, 2,699 words
Monster: Goblin Location: Boston, MA Contact Info: Adrian, 617-462-5467 Rating: 9/10 (one point removed for imminent danger of being turned into a skin suit) Notes: Turns out goblins do eat people after all. (I’m fine, Ma.)
and Cursed: a Shepard from Omaha Adventure by @scone-lover
Rated E, 5,200 words
Shep teaches a sex demon a lesson in consent. But then he accidentally sells his soul in the process. No biggie. Aka: the NSFW version of how Shep got cursed by that demon.
The Naked Truth by Maanorchidee
Rated T, 15,317 words
“But here he is. Simon Salisbury. My boarding school roommate, nemesis, all-around-prick, and the boy I’ve been in love with since I was fifteen.” Baz Grimm-Pitch has moved out of England to study art in Omaha, Nebraska. He left his old life behind and he doesn’t regret it. But one day his former nemesis and long-time crush Simon Salisbury walks into his figure drawing class as the model. How will Baz deal with their shared past and the resurface of his feelings?
Five Times Shepard Brought a Cryptid Home and One Time a Cryptid Brought Shepard Home by @aristocratic-otter
Rated G, 14,340 words
Shepard moved in with me in August three years ago, after an eventful trip back to Nebraska to pack up his things and arrange his papers so that he could live here legally. It’s been so good since then, though there are some oddities you just have to accept when living with a man like Shepard. He never met a creature he didn’t immediately try to befriend, and the demon curse that brought us together is just one example of how such things can go quite badly wrong. I’m hoping that I can exert a tempering influence on him from now on.
✨Gratuitous self rec✨
Nebraska Nebraska I love ya! by me! @skeedelvee
Rated G, 1,449 words
The gang goes out to The Whistling Ogre. Shepard surprises everyone with an excellent karaoke performance to Lady Gaga's Yoü and I
Special shout out for 2021's Carry On Shepfest, lots of great Shep content in there!
If you have any recs that fit the prompt that I've missed, feel free to leave them in the comments! There's plenty of gaps in my reading so there's a good chance I may not have read it
Also I've had a hard time finding if some people are here on Tumblr, so if you know someone who hasn't been tagged, feel free to leave that in the comments as well <3
@carryon-countdown
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Hello. My name is Laughroditee, and I am just a silly little tart on the internet. I like to write and draw stupid things for my own amusement and/or to exorcise my demons.
This is my NSFW sideblog, and as such, minors should not be here. If you interact with my blog or my work and are a minor, know you are going against my wishes. 18+ only!
My SFW stuff is on my main blog, @momokeen, and most of my fanart will be reblogged from there. (Sometimes, I just post it here or as responses in reblogs because I am my own lord and master.) All likes and asks will be from my main blog, but reblogs and comments will be from here.
I am also on AO3 under the same name (laughroditee).
🤡 What to expect:
Silliness, angst, fluff, some smut, and some horror. I aim to keep my fandom experience silly-funny because I am here to have a good time. That being said, I also love a good emotionally scarring fic. So think of candy-coated psychic damage, I guess. That's the vibe here.
I write canon x reader AND canon x OC because making characters, figuring out their psychology, and then breaking them apart is one of my favorite things to do.
At this time, I write gender-neutral!Reader, afab!Reader, or female!Reader if I’m doing a x Reader fic.
🤡 Fandoms I like:
Call of Duty, Devil May Cry, Dragon Age, Stardew Valley, Fallout: New Vegas, (and more)
🤡 Currently, I write for:
The COD fandom
🤡 And draw for:
The COD fandom
My Works
Content warnings will always be listed before the meat of the text, so please read those.
🟢 Fluff
“You're Coming With Me” - Simon Riley finds a kitten. (My first fanfic.)
Simon has a rat (Drabble or something? Headcanon?)
"Snakes & Ladders" - Kyle Garrick lost his memory and gets some help from neighborhood kids.
🟡 PG-13
"Repossessed" trailer script ft. necromancer!Graves - Phillip Graves offers to resurrect a loved one... for a price.
Cowboy Price imagine (PG-13 for suggestive themes)
“Bubble & Squeak" (working title for now), AKA Best friend!Soap / Roommate!Soap x gender-neutral!Reader x Gaz - You and Johnny bicker like children, and he's surprised to hear you're going on a date with Kyle.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
"Queen Behavior" - short fic about little Simon witnessing his father abusing his mother (read the warnings)
"Hither, Hither / Do Not Come Near" - A spooky campfire story about how you go hiking in Austria and maybe wish you didn't. AKA fun times with Cryptid!König.
🔴 18+ MDNI
“Your Ghost” (female OC x Ghoap, features MCD. This is an exploration of grief, trauma, and healing.) - An American tarot reader finds herself inextricably linked to John MacTavish, whose ghost needs a favor from her before he can rest.
Part 1 - Knight of Swords Part 2 - XIII Death Part 3 - Three of Swords Part 4 - A Love That Bleeds Part 5 - First Contact Part 6 - Death at the Door
Headcanons
Weird Domestic Habits of the 141
TF141 and their favorite ASMR types (with links!)
Simon is a penguin
Analyses
Closer!Price analysis
⚠️ WIPs
Closer
Buried Alive
Your Ghost, Ch. 4 - A Love That Bleeds
Priest Soap
Random Poetry
"My Heart You Have/ And Yours I Crave"
Nocturne
Fanart
“Lt., let’s take a photo together!” 📸
Magical Boy Soap
Magical Boy Soap in the style of “The Rose of Versailles”
My COD OC Jesse “Jester” Donovan (kind of a shitpost but…)
Captain Price doodle wearing an elephant trunk g-string, and proof that I made it.
Tags (under construction)
Personal stuff is tagged under #laughroditee rambles
Asks are tagged as #ask laughroditee
And works I've created are tagged with #laughroditee
Unless it’s fanart, then that is tagged under #momokeen*
*working on updating tags...
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9 people you want to know better
Tagged by @aroace-moron. Thank you for tagging me!
Three ships: Oh definitely Synovus/Minerva from the Synoverse stories by wingedcat13. I thinks about those two a lot. Then Maedhros/Fingon. I did not want to ship them. I ship them so much. And for the last one I'm gonna go with Nerdanel/Fëanor. These two can fit so many headcanons.
First ship: Eeeehhhhhh. I don't know. That was so long ago. I guess those two guys from the Loserdex comic. You know the two? The roommates. The best friends. Where one was in love with the other but the other one was oblivious to it? It was so long ago I don't remember anything. Just that it was very relatable at the time.
Last song: Okay let's see. Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics covered by PelleK (the patron saint of metal covers).
Last movie: I don't remember T_T. Prolly a Saltburn rewatch.
Currently reading: The Sandman series. I payed for it (bought it last year) I might as well finish it. In the fanfiction department it's The Harrowing by Chthonion. Amazing thing.
Currently watching: An episode of MasterChef Canada. Good way to learn new words.
Currently eating: Some biscuity thingy with salty caramel. I think it might be expired.
Currently craving: Roasted chicken with rice. Also ceasar salad.
Your turn! (if you wanna): @depressed-cryptid, @glitch3d0ut, @embarressment-erradicated, @radiantidiot, @cheese-crusts, @deergirlslut, @remykai, @aotearoa20 and @ramblingmoon
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Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
thank youuu @junosjukebox @sexynetra <3
okay hmmmm let’s see :)
umbrella
postcards
crystal methyd: dogsitter extraordinaire
nintendogs
balloons
perfect polaroid picture
lemyanka roommates
one day rachel will forgive me for how late this is (halldoll hanahaki)
cat songs
bakery au
wrists covered in beaded bracelets
ghost au
ghost au crystal’s pov edition
almost a year since new year’s eve
letters and love
a music box
lost cat
vandergerd
balconies
the library cryptid
wow. nouns
anyways i think tagging as many people as i have wips would mean everyone in the world so i’ll just tag a few :)
@adoordelano @aqpippin @snowflakenali @eyeslikewatercoolers
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Badly Summarized WIPs Game
I was tagged by both @concealeddarkness13 and @grailfish, so thanks guys!
Some of these are doubled shhh!
Tagging: @abalonetea @duskforged @somealienquill @mrs-mikko-rantanen and @ anyone else who wants to
#you can try to guess#also tried to tag people I didn't think had been tagged but most of my mutuals i think would do it had#or mutuals who might have multiple wips
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"AHHH. My bones are misbehaving."
--Bee
#out of context shit#nightblogging#cryptid roommate tag#lmao#out of context quotes#life quote#quotes
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wip tag game
thank youuuu @buckhastwohands 💛
RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
(i have TOO MANY good lord making this list is giving me psychic damage what am i DOING)
they are all bucktommy unless otherwise noted 🤦♀️ when i tell you i have brainrot—
teacher buck
btw favourite firsts
btw AU first meeting
btw pride
btw marks
fake dating buddietommy part 3 - 🌶️ (buddietommy obviously)
babysitter (buddietommy)
and they were roommates
kinard's coffee au
tommy begins ish
abby (this does not actually really involve abby that much sorry)
i am probably not managing to tag 11 people lmao but no pressure tags:
@skiddit @cryptic-cryptid @xocowilde @theweewooshow @evansboyfriend
@momotonescreaming @smallandalmosthonest and anyone else who wants tooooo 💛
#tag games#sarah writes#i am going to bed tho and if i get any i will answer in the morningggg 💕 it's late (1030pm) and i am old (33)
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9 People 9 Questions
Thanks for the tag @vacantgodling!
I tag: @sarahlizziewrites @chayscribbles @jezifster
@winterandwords @magefaery @the-void-writes @aether-wasteland-s @cryptid-s-wips (Lol I have no brain cells right now. Open tag for that ninth one!)
Last song (lol headphones are already on for the day):
Before this ask
When I finally posted this ask:
Favorite color:
Blue and Orange
Last Movie/TV Show
Uhhh shit I haven't really watched anything I've been busy. Vicariously watched Princess and the Frog through my roommate's TV.
Sweet/Spicy/Savory
Spicy and savory. Love them all honestly.
Relationship Status
In a toxic relationship with my biology degree. Been strong and toxic for 4 years. And more worth it than anyone I've had, cheers.
Last thing I googled
Satellite DNA. Was trying to see if I was actually correct about an answer I chose.
Current obsession
So many things. My constant one is RWBY. But softball (the big one), shadowverse, overwatch (even though I can't play until I go home).
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last seen: putting others first - selfishness vs. selflessness redux favourite characters: janus, remy, romulus favourite ships: roceit, kingceit, sleepceit, anxceitmus self-insert ships: remance, remanceit oc: stimulation | ira sanders blocked tags: prinxiety, moceit proshipper; don't like? don't read!
Lance • He/him, They/Them or Sea/Sear/Seas • Adult Quoiromantic & Bi/Ace • Autistic
Otherkin: Water/Ocean/Faerie • Former endogenic system
currently writing: belief is deceit is belief & Photophobia
Canon setting
Modern setting
Antemori Shores Music and Memories [anxceit]
Fantasy of Eldritch and Gifted [dukexiety, dukesleepceit, rosleepceit]
[links to be added later, au names and layout may change]
Collabs with @anxiouslyfred vampiceit - canon setting, janus is a vampire disguised as a snake, anxceitmusleep dnau - remus gets into dna tests, janus' dna keeps changing, janus has an identity crisis mafiau - fake marriage turn into taking over a mafia, dukexiety, rosleepceit, freed androids becoming family dragonau - janus is a dragon that hoards boyfriends [needs better description]
AUs from the 4 year break idolau - remy is an idol forced to be the face of scandals, janus is a barista with a dark past, virgil is a bartender trying to save money, roman is struggling to get a role, remus probably has a job and a home, oh and most of them live in the same shitty building marvelau - janus get spider powers, janus is very hot, spideypool, dukexiety, future sleepceit, one-sided roceit
AUs that I think about belief!dee - deceit used to be belief, king is the only one who knows, qpp kingceit, roceit, remus has abandonment trauma, remus is obsessed w roman [belief is deceit is belief] fakimals - remus is thought to be the only dark side because virgil and janus are always in animal form, the animals will still pop up if they disagree with something, ignoring the animals doesn't end well, qpp anxceit, slow roceit local cryptids au - schrodingers sleepxiety -> creepxiety, lomile, roceit, tobus, logan raised the twins, remy and virgil raised dee, virgil's youtube audience has lots of questions, remy owns fluidi-tea the coffee shop [local cryptids] ts magic au - ironshell, deceit has too many people attracted to him, deceit is the only human, fae shouldn't be trusted but also the twins are fae
Other AUs art heist au, bread au, fairytale au, garbage au, haunted motel au, ill-fitting powers, kingceit human au, powerswap au, pride!roman au, sideswap au, soft vibes au, snakely escape au, the coincidence au, toddler dee au, ts sunflower au, ts tangled au, ts witch au, unexpected roommates au, wtnv au
Dead AUs crazy ex au, dead spouses au, deceit too au, hogwarts au, parent teacher au, soulmate wings au, the high school au, ts avatar au, ts mythology au, ts universe au, twin omens au, yet another youtube au
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✔
A QUICK AND EASY PLOTTING GUIDE ! | OOC MEME | ACCEPTING
My muse(s): Amity De Claire - Joy + Her Pokemon Team & the Coven (Noriko Joy, Orin Fournier, Yuhuza Sataoi, Yvita & Yvona Joy + close family friends like Mako) the whole song and dance of everyone on the property! + Vespodoza because I could see interactions, and they would be interesting.
Imagine meeting with an alternate universe's version of yourself? Wild! I love the prompt, ESPECIALLY for Giratina and Vespo! Even more so given that Vespodoza is the ONLY remaining Pokemon from the world of its origin left alive - the Dialga and Palkia of their world represented the two extremes of existence, the absence and the presence of Vespodoza SUPPOSED to be the in-between to mediate - unlike the present world - but Vespodoza is evil, it didn't mediate, it stoked both flames on either side with its swarm until both deities turned to war, and by then the swarms and Vespodoza had grown so strong that it devoured them both. Leaving the God of their universe to destroy the whole universe as a failed experiment to try and contain Vespodoza... only for him to wiggle out like a cockroach and move onto the next one, and the next one, until eventually, his hubris ends him when HE'S consumed (in spirit) by the little girl who he murdered and stole the body of (while on the flip side, as he's using her body as a sentient cocoon and drug to feel emotions and experiences, it's not capable of understanding on his own : she's consuming his mind and turning the parts of him into her until only one remains: Amity)
Do I know your muse(s): yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse
( OKAY OKAY—I will out myself here. After you responded to my tags on the 'what made you name your blog' reblog chain meme, I HAD to check out your full blog and the lore. Nico and Amity are brothers in misfortune (on paper, at least!) AND possessed by Giritina adjacent entities. How could I not immediately latch on like Velcro?! But like, oh my god, when I say, when I SAY I love them both!! I love Giritina having a little vacation and watching through the eyes of a vessel about what it means to experience an existence that's so small but not insignificant and having that unseen escape from the clashing status quo of him, Dialga and Palkia with Arceus out here both instigating and being the worlds worst referee. BUT ALSO NICO, MY CRYPTID BELOVED, he is so so welcome in Saijikara; I love that he's coasting on the nature of the assumption and truly living like a spectre in the best way. Everyone assumes one part or the other and fills in the gaps they want about him - like who he must be affiliated with - and how he started. meanwhile, he can live his best life, poking and prodding, not needing to be grounded to any one human institution and sort of remaining as that perfect in between of both Giritina, with his godly perspective, and a normal ass bro! )
Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other*
(Given the nature of both of our characters, there are SO MANY interesting possible verses and point-in-time interactions that could take place, and I'd love any of them! So, like, DM me so we can get started and plot something because I am OVERFLOWING with ideas!)
Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship
Note: The crossed-off ones are the only ones I can't really see happening. The bold ones are the 'OH YEAH PROBABLY' quick and easy roles I can see Ami slotting into, and everything else is a possibility! If you see something you want to proceed with, then let's plot!!
Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other
I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other (alternate answer: YES)
Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests! (ALL OF THE ABOVE ON GOD)
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