#for now! if you folks want a part 2 i'd be down to write it

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[cambion-companion]

Part 2 now up!

Oooh, yes yes I know exactly what I want to write for these lovely Anon prompts! (edit: oh yeah, Aemond popped off in this one...I was expecting to be writing harsh words, and maybe threatening...but nah he uh kills them)

Aemond x wife!reader | crude language | protective Aemond | violence

Moonlight washed over your face, the cool night breeze rustling your skirts as you snuck outside the Keep walls. You knew he waited for you, just below the descending stone steps in front of you, awash in silver light.

You saw a figure in a cloak, hooded and tall, lithe of frame, waiting for you, his hand on the banister as he turned toward the sound of your hurrying feet. "Y/N." Your name on his tongue like honey as your husband extended his arm for you to take. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost leaving our rooms."

"Aemond." You chided. "That's only happened once, and I had Aegon as my escort, we were both thoroughly in our cups."

"Mmhmm." He guided you swiftly down the remaining stairs, out into the open streets of King's Landing, the Red Keep a looming fortress at your backs. "You were undetected?"

"I had to navigate around some guardsmen, but yes. No one knows we're sneaking off to the fire festival." You looked up at him from under your own hood. "Why are we sneaking, Aemond?"

"Anonymity is half the fun." He mused, squeezing your arm briefly. "I'd rather enjoy the festivities with my lady without peasantry taking notice of our presence."

Firelight up ahead caught your eye. As the two of you strode forward the quiet darkened streets gave way to raucous revelry. Small folk laughing and cheering as fire dancers whirled and spat flame. There was an open pavilion with a makeshift stage whereon actors flounced about in comedic costumes. Bussers carrying platters of drink and food navigated their way through the chattering crowd. The smell of baked goods and sweet delicacies teased your nostrils as you inhaled, sharing a smile with Aemond.

Aemond did not release his grip on you the whole time you indulged in as many festival activities as you could. At all times he had a hand gripping your cloak fabric or tangled his fingers with your own. More often than not, he would watch your face rather than the performances of the acrobats and fire eaters. You would be gazing at them open mouthed in wonder at their skill, then your eyes would flick to Aemond's face, and he would be studying your expression with a soft half-smile upon his curved lips, the firelight reflecting in his lilac eye.

As the night wore on, your feet began to ache despite the support of your leather boots. You were loath to leave, even as the crowd began thinning and the booths of food slowly turned in their wares.

A group of men, huddled together near a mossy stone wall, caught your attention as one of them said Aemond's name in a gruff voice. His fellows erupted into laughter at whatever he'd just said about your husband, and your fists curled into instinctive fists. Aemond's hand at your waist indicated he heard it too, and you glanced up to see he was staring at ground, his lips firmly pressed together as he concentrated on overhearing their conversation.

You both didn't have to strain your ears overmuch as the next words were clear to be heard, spoken in a deep drunken drawl. "He's lucky to have landed a lady like her."

His friends grunted in agreement.

Another man spoke up in a reedy voice. "Landed?" He scoffed. "Bedded is more like. What I wouldn't give to get a piece of her."

You noticed Aemond had stilled so completely, he had stopped breathing as his narrowed eye flitted to the huddle of men.

"Man like that Aemond Targaryen. Missing an eye and all that and still gets between the legs of something like her." A rail-thin man took a derisive swig from a bottle. "I would give her a good fucking and she'd be able to stomach my face."

"Get bent Tarful." His companion growled, pushing the thin man on the shoulder. "I'd love me the chance to put a bastard in her belly though."

"Aemond no!" You hissed, grabbing onto your husband's cloak but to no avail. The fabric was wrenched from your grip as Aemond strode forward, throwing back the hood of his cloak as he unsheathed his sword.

There were three of them, inebriated as they were, and only one of Aemond. You crouched to the ground, feeling around for a loose stone, anything that could be used as a weapon should the need arise.

The men didn't take note of Aemond's presence until he was almost upon them.

"What the shit?"

"Who the-"

"Oh, hells take me."

Horrified recognition slid across their faces as they took in the sight of Aemond's livid face. The prince stood rigid, a hand behind his taut back as he pressed the point of his sword into the eldest man's throat.

"You dare speak of my wife in such a manner." Aemond could barely speak for the overwhelming rage constricting his throat. "You dare have such vile thoughts about her."

His long silver hair shone under the moon, cascading down his back and over his shoulders, his violet eye aflame, clearly indicating who he was even to the drunken men before him.

The reedy man reached for a small dagger at his belt, drawing it and stepping toward the enraged prince.

"Foolish." Aemond seethed, barely glancing at him as his sword flashed in a blur of movement.

A spray of blood, the man crumpled. You gasped, looking away as you covered your mouth.

"Y/N. Leave." Aemond commanded, his tone still hard and imperious. "Head back to the Keep. I will catch up with you."

"Aemond..."

"Go!"

You scrambled upright, running across the deserted courtyard, only glancing back once to see the remaining two men cowering before the Targaryen prince, his long sword still extended, now dripping red.

Few others were still in the streets, and they paid you no mind as you hurried away, back up the hill to the Red Keep. Your stomach twisted with the memory of those men's violating words, and the sound of that body hitting the cobblestones with dull finality.

Aemond was gentle and kind when he was with you. You almost forgot he had the blood of Old Valyria coursing hot through his veins. His fury scared you as much as it thrilled you. You had never before seen this side of your husband. Now you understood a little better why the Targaryens were so feared and respected, the words of their family running through your mind.

Fire and blood.

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away. 

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away. 

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys. 

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright. 

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!” 

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting. 

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog. 

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing. 

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so. 

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist. 

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice. 

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat. 

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk. 

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living. 

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting. 

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold. 

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun. 

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it. 

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat. 

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio. 

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north. 

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls. 

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start. 

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala. 

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of. 

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him. 

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either. 

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English. 

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time. 

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer. 

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun. 

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career. 

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world. 

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!” 

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar. 

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza. 

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been. 

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.” 

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer. 

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin. 

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific. 

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?” 

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.” 

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?” 

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.” 

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet. 

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.” 

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that. 

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice. 

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you. 

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar. 

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily. 

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly. 

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?” 

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—” 

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.” 

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.” 

You breathed out the tiniest laugh. 

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more. 

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign. 

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough. 

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?” 

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked. 

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room. 

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.” 

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts. 

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.” 

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.” 

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?” 

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle. 

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so. 

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed. 

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.” 

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things. 

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you. 

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him. 

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband. 

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately. 

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.” 

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.” 

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face. 

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?” 

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?” 

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that. 

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side. 

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply. 

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new. 

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety. 

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life. 

He would remember tonight forever. 

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic. 

How wrong he was. 

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing. 

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving. 

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice. 

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less. 

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look. 

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him. 

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself. 

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit. 

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!” 

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh. 

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend. 

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning. 

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that? 

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun. 

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too. 

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold. 

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit. 

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs. 

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?” 

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.” 

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?” 

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him? 

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric. 

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds. 

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you. 

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation. 

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose. 

The storm was coming. 

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was. 

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight. 

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out. 

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it. 

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen. 

You were ruined. 

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain. 

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear. 

Part 2 will be out now!!

[timeslugarts]

Four Flushing

Part 4 of my Vera x Vox story.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A/N - I really hope you guys are enjoying this, I didn't think I'd write so much for them. I also hope that my writing is at least enjoyable.

CW: Smut and Valentino lmao

After replacing his screen and dealing with an angry Val all week Vox decided that maybe the best thing to do was to take the moth Overlord out for a night of fun and debauchery, and what would be better than a gala thrown in honor of Hell's royalty. Personally, Vox abhorred these sorts of events, but the chance to schmooze and make connections was always a bonus. Valentino loved to dress up and cause drama, so this seemed like an excellent idea. He had very simple pleasures.

They made their way to the party in a sleek Voxtech limousine. Vox slipped out of the car before a shade could open his door. Valentino on the other hand sat there until the shades opened his door, there was nothing he enjoyed more than being waited on hand and foot.

Vox was already halfway through the entrance, phone in hand, before Valentino caught up to him. Draping his arms around Vox and pinching his ass. Vox could only sigh and check his texts and emails.

Several new messages, but not the one he was hoping for.

"Come onnnn papito, I want to dance!" Val shook him lightly, tongue licking the side of Vox's screen.

He had to turn the charisma up, he was literally here so he could get Val off his back, a couple hours of fake smiles and back home for a hate fuck shouldn't be too bad.

So Vox slipped his hand into Val's, "of course," he crooned, "let's dance." They made their way to the dance floor where Vox spun and twirled Val around, every now and then stopping to drink champagne and talk to the other patrons. It wasn't until something caught his eye that he stopped.

A light blue flame moving its way to the tower of drinks.

-----------

Vera looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the shimmer on her cheeks to make sure it caught the light from her flames just right. Jericho, her roomie down stairs, had received tickets to tonight's Gala courtesy of his current royal boy toy. There were perks to being a pool boy to one of Hell's own Goetia and that included tickets to events they'd never attend otherwise. So of course Jericho was taking Vera as his plus one, the intention was to nic as many jewels and wallets as they could, drink till the night turned to dawn, and eat their fill of shrimp. The shrimp being the most important part.

Vera's mind idly wandered to her phone, he had never responded to her text and that was more than enough for her to call things over.

Maybe he'd be there, or maybe not.

"Oh baby!" Jericho's voice rang from the door of her flat. He sauntered over to her and grabbed her hips pulling her flush against him. "I could eat you up right here. Let's forget the party and fuck right now."

She turned around in his arms placing her own around his neck, and bumped her forehead into his, "but shrimp."

He sighed, "but shrimp." Grinning, he grabbed her hand and spun her around, "you look stunning though."

"I know," she shrugged, "You're not half bad yourself." She gave him a once over.

"Hey, I'm hot and you know it." He slicked his hair back admiring himself in the full length mirror, the scar across his nose and his milky eye more prominent than ever. Jericho always tried to show off his wounds when hanging around the rich folk, knowing damn well they all loved a bad boy.

Jericho and Vera walked into the party arm in arm. It was definitely a party for Hell's wealthiest, large buffet tables lined the exterior, a Champagne tower at the center of the room, and a catering service of shades taking people's plates, glasses, coats and whatever else.

Vera quickly scanned the party, making note of anything she could see herself wanting, large plates of shrimp, and the crystal champagne flutes looked nice too. She sauntered over picking up the champagne and giving it a sip and grimacing. It didn't matter if you were living or dead, alcohol was still disgusting. Crystal was nice though, she dumped the rest of the champagne in a nearby plant and stuffed the glass into her bag, along with a few of the larger shrimps she saw. She was in the middle of munching on one when a voice got her attention.

"You know if they catch you they'll kill you." Vera whirled at the staticky voice.

Vox.

She wasn't sure she'd see him here, and she was extra sure he wouldn't have approached her. Here he was though, dressed smoothly in a pinstripe double breasted suit. That darling debonair smile on his face.

"And what about if you catch me?" Vera aired up at him, eyebrow cocked.

"Catch you! Ha! I'm here to help you!" His grin grew even brighter. He turned her around, hands lightly gripping her shoulders, he pointed her at a group of overlords she didn't recognize. "You see that windbag over there," he pointed a claw at a particularly old looking lady wearing what looked like a raccoon skin dress. "She's fuckin' loaded with jewels at any given time, plus the bitch is as blind as a bat."

"Oh? Do you think she needs a new friend?" She turned back, a look of innocence on her face.

"Absolutely. Now go get 'em tiger." He slapped her ass as she began strutting toward her new target.

Vera turned back, "always such a charmer." She gave him a wink.

Vox chuckled to himself as he grabbed two flutes and made his way back to Val. It was a risky move, but he couldn't just not say anything.

"Oh look at you talking to the Spitfire Demon." Val hummed when Vox handed him his drink.

"Who?" Vox played the uninterested fool.

"Hush, I don't blame you boo, she's smoking." He leaned heavily on Vox downing his drink. "Girl used to run with a crew and I would've given my best assistant to have them in a gang bang." He emphasized this by clenching his free fist tightly. "They would've made me millions!"

"Used to? What happened to the others?" Vox did his best to keep the curiosity out of his voice, it was all business all the time.

"They all died or some shit, exorcists got 'em. A waste of good flesh if you ask me." Val walked around leaning into Vox, "you planning on asking her to bed with us tonight? A third could be fun."

"No no, tonight is all about you," he grabbed Val's hand and kissed his knuckles. He wouldn't admit it, but the idea of sharing Vera brought the taste of bile to his mouth, he didn't like the thought of Valentino running his hands over her body.

"Damn right it is, now come on chica I want to dance more!" The moth shimmied his way back on to the dance floor beckoning for Vox to join.

Vox leaned back against the counter, "give me a few, I don't have nearly as much stamina as you, I'm gonna see who I can blackmail."

Val pouted, but Vox only waved him away. "Go, have fun, make out with a hottie, I'll be back!"

When he was sure Val was thoroughly distracted, grinding up against some poor strangers, he began searching the crowd. He spotted his little flame walking down a long dark hallway heading away from the crowd.

It made him nervous, did someone find out she'd been stealing? Was she going to be with someone else? He was already well aware of the other man that Vera had arrived with, but he'd seem too interested in shoving his nose up a Goetia's ass then spending time with her. So he dropped it.

But what was she doing now? He had to know, he had to follow her. Make sure she is ok.

Sparing one last glance at Valentino, who seemed very interested in checking the tongue piercing of another Overlord with his own tongue, he swiftly made his way through the crowd towards the hall that he'd last seen Vera heading down.

He couldn't believe how stunning she'd look, long velvet gloves and a short black dress that hugged her body in all the best ways. Tulle flowing from her waist to her legs giving her just the tiniest bit of secrecy. She was gorgeous and he was sure that someone would snatch her up by the end of the night. He couldn't let that happen, but how to get around Val was the question.

She had managed to disappear when he'd finally reached the hall, it made his heart thud with anxiety, he walked further into the darkness, about to call her name when a hand shot out from an open door and snatched him inside.

"What the FU-"

"Shhhh or do you want to get caught!" A voice whispered, he noticed the blue flames burning dimly, and the piercing blue eyes staring at his own.

They were pressed together in a small storage closet, him and his little flame. Vera. His breathing grew ragged almost immediately. Her proximity to him was almost dizzying.

"You know, I thought you were done with me, but that little show earlier-" She ran her hand up his chest and started fiddling with a button, "made me think otherwise."

He let out a huff, "done with you, doll?" He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. "Never. I just had to get Valentino off my back, he'd been bitching and moaning ever since-"

She leaned in and silenced him with a kiss.

"We don't have much time Vox, our dates could be looking for us."

He got the idea and kissed her back full force. Pulling her even closer than you'd think possible. Her arms snaked their way around his shoulders pulling him in, leg reaching up to wrap around his waist. When she sighed into his mouth he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue inside. She tasted like candy and bubblegum, he laughed internally at the notion.

They started to grasp at each other, squeezing what their hands could find. When Vox bumped into a shelf of buckets and bottles that rattled about, they both stopped in their tracks, waiting, listening.

When nothing happened Vox jumped on the opportunity.

He quickly moved her skirts to the side, going to press his fingers into her delicious heat, but when he got there.

"You're not wearing any underwear?"

She grinned licking his neck, "panty lines are a bitch."

Vox groaned, he could feel his pants getting tighter by the second, "You're so fucking hot."

He pressed into her, delighted by how wet she already was. She moaned softly, and he started to pump faster spurred on by the quiet noises she was making. When his thumb found its way to her clit she let out a much louder sound. Vox grinned.

"Shh, we're going to get caught if you're not quiet." She bit his neck to stop any noises she would make as he continued his ministrations. The feel of her teeth piercing his skin was almost too much. He made a note that the next time they were together they could be as loud as they wanted.

She was close, she knew it, he knew it.

"Faster Vox." Vera panted out, her knees were trembling and he grabbed her throat to help keep her upright, but also to add a little more pressure to the buzz she was already feeling.

She was starting to see spots when it hit her. A strangled sob tore through her, muffled by the hand around her neck. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to regain her composure, leaning into Vox and panting.

Vox held on to her tightly, he pressed his screen into the top of her head breathing her in. She smelled of smoke and lavender, her skin was soft and slick with sweat. He wanted to leave with her, to take her home and have his way with her. He wanted to have breakfast the next morning and maybe show her his sharks. He was sure she'd like them. They could go out to that little restaurant Velvette was telling him about the other day for lunch…

"God I've missed you." Vox mumbled into her hair.

Vera, who had recovered and was undoing the buckle on his belt, froze. She looked up at him, expression unsure, but Vox was too absorbed in the moment to even notice. Her breath came out a little more uneven than she would've liked as she let go of the clasp on his belt. Sliding her hand up to rest on his chest, he leaned into her touch, vibrating at the soft motion, almost purring.

"Vox I think we need to leave before anyone notices we're missing." Vera whispered, looking away from his screen. He squeezed her a little tighter, a little closer.

Finally he released her, groaning. "You're probably right, I can only imagine the amount of trouble Valentino is causing right now." He glared off into the darkness, with no view of Val, it was the best he could do.

Without another word Vera popped the door open, slowly and quietly, checking the long hallway to make sure the coast was clear. After confirming it empty, they both slipped out and headed in opposite directions.

They were in the clear, no way they could get caught now especially since Vox controlled every video camera in the pentagram. Vera's heart was still racing though, even as she made her way back to Jericho. As he grabbed her coat so they could make their leave. As she saw Vox standing there with Valentino wrapped around his arm, his eyes never once leaving her own. When she climbed into her bed and lifted the covers over her. When she thought about the way he held her in that tiny broom closet. When her phone lit up with a notification.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She needed to end this.

[foolsocracy]

Do you have any fic recommendations? I've just read the open road and other anesthetics, which was good, but I'd love more Noir content.

oh boy do i

Here are a few fics i have on hand! If I have time or stumble across more, I can make another post/add to this one. Heads up, the open road and other anesthetics is pretty light hearted and these probably will not be. so say vigilant LMAO (its noir, ya know?). If you wanted more spiderverse centric fics rather than noirverse let me know i'll see what i can pull together.

Burning Matches by HopelesslyLost (complete) 344,746 words

Cant have a Spider Noir fic rec list without the gospel itself. Definitely on the whumpier side, lots of "this guy can never catch a break huh" but very good! Takes the noirverse and makes it so so cool. I pull a lot from this fic. Great stuff Its a post ITSV setting and features a great deal of everyone but Pete is def the focus. The spider gang is trying to get back together, but when they get to Noir's world things don't go as planned. Heavy on the found family. Heavy on the angst. Love Noir's relationship w/ Miles' parents

The Wind Follows by HopelesslyLost (incomplete) 99,501 words

Goes along with Burning Matches as a side story of Pete infiltrating the KKK to get them tf out of NYC. Very heavy handed on the angst. Even whumpier than Burning Matches. Where it stands right now, it ends on an incredibly low note, very much like Eyes Without a Face. Peter's kicked while he's down & physically incapable of getting a win. But Peter does kick Nazi ass which is always nice to see If you like the noirverse HopelesslyLost writes this is very interesting! Gotta be my fave part of this fic. I love seeing Noir Cage, Daredevil, and Tony Stark. Plus the who "cursed" situation.. mwah

i'll go back to december by snapplebee (incomplete, recently updated) 14,503 words

This fic reminds me of the open road and other anesthetics, but if it was a little angstier w/ Noir. The spider gang is hanging out for the holidays, Noir doesn't know how to fuckn relax.

Catch a Tiger by the Tail by Gruoch (completed) 40,049 words

Just finished this one today! Was very fun. It's an MJ spider-man (her POV) and a Black Cat Peter. Gwen Stacy, a dancer at Felica Hardy's place, is found dead. Her fiancé, Peter Parker, is found dead soon after. Its very much a mystery! TBH i think i was out of it reading this because a twist got me that I'm almost positive was obvious from the beginning LMAO. Slight Peter/Johnny Storm as well

Between Midnight and Dawn by Gruoch (incomplete) 14,158 words

Prequel to the previous rec. I love this one and I'd do anything to see it update again. Shows you how Peter got to be the Black Cat, he has cool run ins with the Dare Devil and Stark, all the fun noir folks. Heads up on the dysfunctional found family tag, thats for sure Peter and Felicia. But they're strange in canon anyway so its not really much of a surprise.

He Sleeps in a Town of Darkness by luckystarsandgarters (complete) 21,278 words

This is the fic i mentioned a post or 2 ago about Johnny Storm being a drag performer. I really love the atmosphere of this fic, I thought it was pulling from an offical comic thats how well it got me. This one's Pete/Johnny Storm! They're cute. Lots of focus on the gay subculture of the 30s I think.

Trust by Ackerhardt (complete) 6,989

Peter & Jean De Wolfe vs the world. Quick read in the classic noirverse. Jean is fun we should talk about him more tbh. Peter/Jean actually! Just colleged aged guys taking on crime in the city.

[optiwashere]

WIP Wednesday

Holy shit, it's actually on a Wednesday this time?

I really wanted to do one of these this week since I've gone a bit rabid on a few WIPs.

I'll post a little bit about each of those WIPs later, some snippets and a blurb about why I'm so excited. But first! Folks to tag! Since I'm so excited for these, I'm gonna tag a lot this time.

If you have anything you want to share WIP writing-wise, please do... @quitefair @bottombatch @siyurikspakvariisis @causticcontemplation @jasminethetransvampire @underworldobsessed @assarivanguard @amorficzna @funwithnix @askweisswolf @linka-from-captain-planet @tief4tief

If you don't want to do this, or have nothing you want to share, feel free to ignore. If anyone else wants to do this, please feel free to consider yourself tagged. Now, onto my obsessions.

WIP 1: New chapter of Nightsongs

After spending some chapters in a kind of angst zone after the relatively light (relatively) first 4-5 chapters, this next chapter is going to be a kind of upswing. There's lots left to do with the AU, so I'm expecting to chug along and write more and more as time permits.

This AU is a lot for me to handle, especially after having so many chapters ready to post and then... falling way behind on writing the chapters afterwards. But it's fanfiction, and we're having fun here. So, who cares? The game's fandom heyday is already over, so at this point I'm just writing whatever feels best to me.

This chapter is mostly done, I think. I'm giving it a few days/a week to sit before I go back to edit it with fresher eyes. Also, we return to Ash's POV!

Lae’zel walked into Ash’s back office without a word on the seventh day and Ash nodded her way without looking up. Papers sat in strewn piles all over the desk, a handful of old incident reports and assessments that still needed working for Wulbren’s accountants. The absolute worst part of the job remained for the year – paperwork – and Ash intended to get them caught up in the hours that remained of her day. It was a useful, meaningful task. It gave her something else to think about. Anything other than green eyes. “We should talk,” Lae’zel said, sitting down without being offered one of the folding chairs in front of the desk. “Aren’t we doing that?” Ash scanned the paper in front of her and quickly jotted down her signature. [...] “You begin working on a van,” Lae’zel said matter-of-factly, counting off on her fingers as she spoke. “You talk to a pretty girl. You suddenly work more often on that van. Then, you disappear inside yourself and act bitter all day because suddenly the girl no longer shows up. There is more to it than you say.” “I think this might be the first time you’ve spoken more than five words to me, you know that?” Ash chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”

WIP 2: New chapter of Blades in the Night

The need to write more plot for this has been burrowing in my skull for a long time. I initially stopped myself from writing too much of it because I wanted to do Nightsongs first in its entirety before getting to this, but I think I'm just too impatient for that.

I also love the fact that this fic turned from a simple PWP one-shot into this much more expansive, plotty story that's now pretty important for what I want to do with my babies post-canon. Something about that makes me smile.

Plus, you know how I've been lamenting my inability to write happy endings for certain characters?

Either way, this isn't really complete, but the hardest part is complete and now I just have to start connecting the dots and filling in the blanks. I'd say it's about a third done?

The room filled with the same aura of a distant gaze leveled their way that Shadowheart had felt back in the cloister. Asheera had made an oath to protect Shadowheart then, and the flooding of a dense, real presence had nearly swallowed her whole in the cloister's barracks. A weight of importance sunk down on her shoulders there in Hobb's Hovel as well. A smell like molten metal cooling lilted in the air with a lingering, acrid tang. It tasted of blood in Shadowheart's mouth, as if the forging was tainted with some other foul presence in the mixture. [...] Little could have compared better to that feeling of a weight lifted from her shoulders. Worry disappeared and gave way to earnest joy in Shadowheart, and she thrived on it. She hadn't felt such keen happiness since she'd been so readily accepted into Asheera's family by her parents.

WIP 3: Gauntlet of Shar fic

Wow, I know! I've been talking about writing this fic for so long that it's almost become a sort of mythical never-to-be-slain beast for me. I'm not normally someone that talks about my ideas too often, I just write them before they can flee me.

I tend to also get in my own head about what I "should" be writing in the first place. Frankly, I'm getting kinda tired of writing so many ships, though fear not - I'll still have ideas that can only work with ships that aren't Shadowheart/Asheera. It's just that, for a while, I want to focus back on my loves.

This fic is one of those that I've wanted to finish for months. I know that at this point in the fandom's life cycle, I'm pretty much writing just for the dedicated, lovely folks that still read my stuff and I'm extremely happy to have y'all around! Maybe this will make Light Casts a Shadow ring a little more true for some, maybe it will be just another fic that I post, who knows.

Also, one thing I'm planning on experimenting with for this fic is alternate endings for Fun. This is a fic where the ending hinges on choices that Shadowheart makes in the game, so it's only fitting that I explore what would happen if she made those other choices.

But anywho, enough blabbing. Excerpt time!

Those touches and more, Asheera cherished. She watched in silence as Shadowheart turned her devotions to each of those tasks. Perhaps it was the nature of clerics to give themselves entirely to seemingly mundane tasks much the same Asheera felt compelled to consider her oaths in nearly every conversation, battle, or even moments like Shadowheart carefully buckling a cuisse to her leg with straps of leather at the backs of Asheera's knees. Fingertips trailed against her clothed skin, and Shadowheart stood up once more. "There," she said, "all's taken care of, then. Tell me, how's my handiwork? Be honest. I can handle the criticism." Asheera brought her balled fist to her chest in an arm curl. She flexed the elbow out and tested her shoulders, knees, ankles, and hips for motion. None of the plates caught on one another, and none of the straps across her hands, arms, knees, or chest restricted her. "Perfect," Asheera said at last. "Marvelous work." Shadowheart offered a quick smile. "I'll take a Gondian's compliment on such things any day." "Can't say I would've done a better job." "Ah, there's the honesty I was waiting for. Truly, where would you be without me?"

[chaos0pikachu]

I saw that you are now all caught up with Dead Friend Forever, as an horror fan do you have any hints or ideas for how the show is going to end? I am just loving all the theories in this fandom, and wanted to know if you have some.

LOL I'm actually writing up a big post about the film influences of DFF, like what horror genres and works I think the show is pulling from.

I'll be honest, I'm not much of a theorist when it comes to guessing the trajectory of a story. Or maybe I'm just not good at solving mysteries lol I'd def be the Shaggy of a group rather than the Velma.

Right now some of my current theories, if I were to call them such, are:

The show ending will be similar to Girl From Nowhere's s1 finale where everything was actually a drug induced violent mass hallucination and the story will end more open ended and unsettling than definitive. Which I would be totally down for, but I get the feeling most in fandom wouldn't be.

I think, just based on what I've observed, folks in fandom want a more clear-cut slasher based ending with a "final girl" and such which, DFF isn't much of a slasher to me (I'll argue my point regarding this in my film post about the series I promise) it has the bare bones of a slasher but not the soul of one.

So my other theory is that's the ending DFF will have, a more by-the-numbers slasher based ending with maybe one final plot twist - like idk White being involved or something - and one char surviving - personally if this is the ending the show has I think it'll be Jin who is the "final girl" as it would match the short film footage we saw of their movie.

Which I would be fine with, but less impressed by overall. Not because I don't like Jin, I actually do as a char - ppl are really harsh on the char tho damn also the TaCopper vs TaBarcode ship wars are PEAK weirdo tinhat behavior to me anyways - but it is the most predictable ending. Even if it's not Jin and it's some other char a "final girl" style ending feels, hm, fine. Not bad but just fine.

I think another possible ending is that no one survives, as per Non's rewritten script. Which would be a bummer but could be interesting depending on how it's done.

My totally 100% out of the hot pocket theory is this has all been an elaborate movie set up ala Urban Legends 2 which I think would make everyone mad but the chaos of it all would crack me the fuck up and I'd love it for that alone.

So yeah, nothing to in detail just some general possible thoughts on the ending. Like could Non be alive? Yeah I could buy that, I could buy he's dead-dead too. I think whether he is or isn't will be a final act plot twist though, and not "the ending". So even if he is alive, whether he survives after would still be up in the air.

Most slashers end with the slasher dying at the hands of the final girl as a cathartic way to "murder the monster for survival". Again I don't think DFF is much of a slasher, but if fandom thinks it is then we gotta acknowledge that as a major part of the sub genre as well.

[bigplaceexchange]

Sign Up Guide 2024

Hey all. With signups less than a week away, I wanted to post an updated sign up guide. Things work a bit differently this year, but I hope this guide will walk you through it. As always, if you have any questions about sign-ups - or any part of the exchange process - please reach out to me.

There are two parts to a sign up: Requests and Offers. Requests are what pairings you would like to receive a gift FOR, while Offers are what pairings you are willing to CREATE for another person. I'll go over each of these individually.

REQUESTS

When you go to sign up, you'll see a screen that looks something like this:

Under the boxes labeled Request 1, Request 2, and Request 3, you'll fill out the minimum of 3 items you need to request. You can add up to 10 by scrolling down passed Request 3 and hitting this button:

Either way, in EACH Request box, you MUST fill out the first two portions, Fandom and Relationships.

For Fandom, CLICK ALL THREE BOXES. I have it set up that you have to, so it shouldn't be hard to miss, but this will make sure you see all the nominated pairings.

Once you click the Fandom boxes, click on Relationships and a drop down list of all the relationships nominated will populate.

Just like space magic.

The box below it, "Letter", is where you can link your exchange letter explaining what you are and aren't into. Remember when I talked about Letters?

You don't HAVE to put anything here, but letters are a LOT of help and remember: I CAN'T ENFORCE DNWs IF YOU DON'T TELL US ABOUT THEM.

Onto the Description box. You don't HAVE to put anything here, but some folks choose to link their letters here, or if they don't have a letter, go over their DNWs and likes here. This is also a good place to list pairings specific things you'd like to see. For example, if I requested Kaidan/Male Shep, I might say I'd really like to see a story or art about them adopting a dog. (for real though, if someone wants to write that for me I'd love it ;) )

And that's it for Requests! Below the requests boxes you'll see the Offer boxes, which I'll go over next.

OFFERS

Offers look similar to requests, but work a bit different. This is where you list which pairings you're willing to CREATE for. It looks like so:

Again, you have to offer a minimum of 3, but up to 10. As with requests, the Fandom and Relationship portions are required, but the rest is optional (but important).

The Fandom and Relationship part of Offers works the same way as requests. It's the description box that's different.

Now, OFFERS ARE ANON. No one but the mod team can see your offers. That said, the Description box of Offers is where you'll leave the following info:

Things you're willing to create;

Things you AREN'T willing to create; (this is important! If, for example, you don't want to create explicit content, WE NEED TO KNOW so we can match you properly) and;

Anyone you don't want to be paired with for the exchange. REMEMBER THIS PART IS ANON. No one else will see what you put here. Your reasons are your own and you don't have to explain why you don't want to be paired with a certain person.

When you're done filling out your offers, hit submit.

Whooooo! You're signed up.

You can edit your sign-up up until the day they close, after which it's locked. So if you think of another pairings, idea, ect, you can always go back and edit it. You can find your signups on the left side of your AO3 dashboard under "Sign-Ups".

I'm looking forward to this year's exchange and all the tasty Kaidan gifts! If you have any questions, reach out to me!

[according2thelore]

2023 top five!

@preseriesdean thought it would be fun for artists/authors/creators to post their favorite five creations this year, and i agree! it can be anything: your favorite posts, fics, art, edits, fanvids, anything!

i saw some folks turning this into a tag game, so here are some tags! @deanwinchesterpregnant @dyed-red @mercette @crucifysam @weirdbrothers @togethertogethersoulmates @pookeenpie

if you end up doing it, pls tag me! i'd love to see y'all's works! :)

-lizzy

so in no particular order, here are the five fics i liked the best/am the most proud of!

considering that everything i’ve written on this account (240k words of it good lord) was published since february 23rd, i’ve got a lot to work with!

i was in the fandom back in 2012-2013 until 2016-2017, and when i rewatched it recently with some friends, i realized just how many words and feelings had been broiling since. i wrote a LOT for spn back in the day (not published, just for the pure joie de vivre), but everything on the ao3 is completely new since feb!

1. tell me, why are you still so afraid?

or, the "what do you want, sam?" fic. this one might be a surprise! it did moderately well, but i'm really happy with it! i love writing weechesters/pre-series, and i hope this fic did them justice! it hit a lot of points i liked, and i had so much fun writing it!! i'm proud of it! :)

2. you're pretty when you don't speak

or, sam's wife pov. i was shocked!!! aghast!!! frankly agog!!! at how much folks loved this one! i had the idea in the shower of all places, lmao, just the idea that wait, being sam's wife must be so lonely. it was not the usual fare (and written in second-person pov), so i was expecting it to gently and quietly flop. but no! i wrote this fic in two sittings at one a.m. the night before a paleopathology exam, so i'm shocked any of it was coherent in the morning. thank you, dear reader, if you interacted w it at all! :)

3. romans 3:10-11

ahh, romans. to other folks that write, this was one of those fics that scratched in my bones until i sat down and wrote it all out. does that sound pretentious? it was stifling; it was all i could think about. even now, i look back on it and feel like there are things that are missing, extended scenes and extra themes that i wished i had teased out. the response was overwhelming and positive and i'm so glad you lot liked it! if you ever want more...idk...lemme know...

4. we didn't get it right, but love we did our best

or, the Heaven fic! this one took awhile to make, and a lot out of me to do! it's the longest fic i've made this year, by a lot! the planning process was a lot of fun (even though charlotte was mostly asleep), and i even colour-coded themes and turning points i wanted to include. the sense of accomplishment when it was done was a great part of this year!

5. there's no such thing as a clean break, when your heart starts bleeding out

or, the stanford!era fic where dean bleeds out on the highway and decides to not tell sam about it. one of my favorite things to write is a character getting more and more out of it as they lose control (or blood), and this one was a fun challenge! i love stanford!era dean, because he's so mangled and angry and sad. i feel like that one tweet that william shatner posted where he said ELECTROCUTE HIM!!! this also feels the most like the things i wrote back in 2014, so it brings nostalgia :,)

this was WAY harder than i thought! i loved and was so proud of so much of my work this year! a top ten would be easier, but i'm happy with this list!

thank YOU for reading! :)

we are holding hands now and there's nothing you can do to stop it. y'all keep this up and we might even have to stare lovingly into each other's eyes.

[sssammich]

fanfic writer questions

Thanks for the tag, @foibles-fables

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

i'm at 122 right now (wahoo!)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

794,634 (i am on a mission to 1 million in the next couple of years)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

well i've been around many a fandom block, but i'd say for current brainrot:

supergirl (mostly supercorp, but i have a smattering of rare pairs because women, amirite?)

swan queen

bumbleby (i also still have so many rosebird dreams i'll get there someday)

makayuro (with a smattering of rare pairs also because women, amirite?)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

well unsurprisingly, ever since plopping down on supercorp fandom, the numbers have been from there. but shoutout to my victorious fic from 2012 holding strong lol

evergreen, closest i get, not for nothing, you've got mail, and one way or another

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes yes absolutely!! sometimes i am late and sometimes i just leave it in there so i can have it stay unread but anyway i try to respond and i appreciate everyone who sends them to me. i have historically been a oneshot writer so it's been nice also to get comments on wips!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh shoot angstiest ending?? well i think i would say my supercorptober ficlet about memory loss of sorts might tick that (it ends kinda idk open but not bad, i will say)

but then there's also this one old soccer RPF i wrote that's more, idk, poetry than any real fic about one of them leaving lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

the happiest ending? i mean all of them, i reckon. if they end up together or have a promise of together then they count lmao

8. Do you get hate on fics?

uhhh none that i've seen? i mean if it's in the comments, no? but if it's elsewhere, then also no? i have been fortunate in that way

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

OMG YES I AM FINALLY IN MY SMUT ERA

uh i reckon comedy smut for now (read DickFic here) but the day is young and my doc is empty so who's to say

but i have dreams for some sad smut because i'd like to develop the range LMAO

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

surprisingly, i do not. what i instead do is just little spin through five fandoms at any given time and just confuse myself that way

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

unfortunately yes. twice now. once was for my victorious fic that was used for a 5th harmony RPF lmaooo

and then on thanksgiving weekend, the first chapter of Crepe AU was posted by an anonymous for a The Wilds ship (but my friends rallied to get it taken down so i didn't have to send a takedown form to ao3 while i was traveling home)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope but that would be totally rad

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i love fic writing group work so yes! i have a series of sad angsty women that i have with my best friend in my revue starlight fandom, and then, of course, @sideguitars and i have 'humans in the storeroom' (that reminds me it's my turn to write the next part smh)

i also like jumping into writing sprints or writing exercises with folks (like a round robin)

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

let's not do this, i shan't pick amongst my children

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

so far all my wips are things i wanna finish and will do my best to finish. i have a couple of retired wips that will just sit in my ao3 forever and i have made peace with them, though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i wanna say characterization, pacing, emotional resonance, and a simple and natural writing style maybe

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action?? plot??? proper AUs lmao

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i do not because i find i butcher it and also then i cringe lmao

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh written for but never posted? hermione/ginny

posted for? god probably All My Children (bianca and maggie) when i was like a teenager hahahahaha

20. Favorite fic you've written?

sorry no can do i love them all because i wrote them and there are so many things i enjoy about them. but i will say that the writing events circuit i've done this past year (supercorp bigbang, bumbleby big bang, and swan queen winter solstice) are born out of a lot of labor of love and i'm really proud of the work i've done for them.

and not for a writing event, but i am also extremely proud of re:live for mayakuro fandom-- that one makes me think that if i never wrote for that fandom again, that that's a really good fic to end on)

No-pressure tags, of course: @sideguitars, @eqt-95, @fazedlight, @luthordamnvers, @vox-ex, and @waytooinvested

(yall have probably done this before but here it just in case!)

[norbezjones]

I've been thinking a lot about something concerning Romance The Backrooms, so I wanted to write it down and share it.

Content Warning: Discussion of suicidal thoughts, self harm, mental health issues, and homelessness. There is a hopeful ending.

I got the idea for RtB in October, when I was living on a friend's couch and trying to find permanent housing. That ended up being a really difficult month for me, because I self-harmed for the first time in months and, as a result, I went to inpatient.

I was there for a while, and I got better. With all the time I had in thee, I worked on creative things, and really fleshed out RtB. I couldn't live with my friend anymore after October ended, but the social worker told me that she would find me a group home.

However, when I was transferred to a different wing of the hospital, I was given a new social worker. And this one said that I couldn't get into a group home, and he was going to discharge me into a homeless shelter asap.

That resulted in a spike of suicidal thoughts. Why had I come this far, only for this to happen to me? Should I just end it? But, no--if I did that, who would be around to make Romance The Backrooms? If my light snuffed out now, that game would never be made.

I've been suicidal since I was 10 years old, and it's usually not big, grand things that make me want to stay alive. It's the dogs I would never pet and the movies I'd never be able to watch that make me say, "One more day." And RtB became my "One more day." It became the reason why I persevered.

After I was discharged, my friends told me that I still needed inpatient help & psychiatric care. So after toughing things out for a few days, I brought myself to the ER and was admitted. A few days later, I was brought to another inpatient, and two weeks later, that inpatient sent me to a short-term residential program.

It was a wonderful program, and I met some fantastic people there. I also worked more on RtB--I figured out all of my love interests, and drew them for the first time. On the characters profiles, which you can view here, there are drawings with the description, "Concept art from when I was in treatment in December 2023." These were all done while I was at the residential program.

I was able to scrounge up some money to be able to get an Airbnb after I discharged--it was cheaper than other options, and would hopefully be temporary while I searched for permanent housing.

Unfortunately, finding housing is difficult when you haven't worked in 2 years (mainly thanks to pseudo-dementia, which I've documented extensively in this game here), and don't have the money for a security deposit. I also wasn't poor enough or disabled enough to get help from the government. Very unfortunate.

Long story short, I ran out of funds to stay at the Airbnb in 2 months. I was able to get into a short-term housing program for homeless folks with mental health issues. That was when I met Kevin.

Kevin told me he could help me get hotel & housing vouchers if I went with him after our time at the program was done. I had no other options, so I did. I spent the money I had keeping us afloat at a motel while we waited for the voucher, and went across the state to a different one when Kevin told me the one we were at wouldn't accept the voucher. When he left to retrieve it, I waited very patiently for him to return.

He never did.

I suspect the whole thing was some sort of scam all along, and even though part of me knew it could be, I went with it because it was either go with Kevin, or go to the homeless shelter.

The next day, I had to check out of the motel--I had literally no money left. I gathered my bags and sat in the lobby--well, I say lobby, but there weren't any chairs or tables, so I was basically sitting on the ground in the corner of the room, with sun from the window scorching my back--while I tried to come up with a plan.

I made a lot of phone calls to people who might be able to help me, but nothing came through. Even 211 had nothing, because the homeless shelters in the town I was in were full.

I became suicidal again at that moment. Again, the eternal question: why had I come this far, only for this to happen to me? Should I just end it?

No, goddammit. If I go now, Romance The Backrooms will never be made, I thought to myself. I want to be around to make it. I want to be around to see it through. Come on, Bez. Things looks like shit, but let's keep going anyway.

Not long after that thought came to my mind, another person entered my head, someone else I could call. I wavered, but eventually decided to try calling them, and they answered. They were able to help.

It's thanks to them that I am where I am today. I have housing for a while, and I got a job that I'm satisfied with.

Best of all, I'm working on Romance The Backrooms.

I'm so happy I stayed around to see it through.

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 9, 2023

Happy Sunday! Things on the home-front have calmed down significantly so I've been writing writing writing and a little reading. One of the hardest parts about writing a long chapter fic is the loneliness of it all. Writing is usually a Solo event. There is a huge rush you get (okay that I get) when posting something new. You're excited but also worried that no one will like it. You wait for that first like, bookmark, oh hell for that first comment! But that feeling may only come once or twice a year.

Fandom History Musings:

One time, I did adventure into writing a Drarry murder/mystery story with nine other authors. Level Two: Series 1. We had a 2 producers, a showrunner, 2 mods, editors, artists, and email discussions about who would write which chapter in the plot and have it done on time so the next author could build off of it. Take a look at this Link of Acknowledgements. You can see how much work was done in the background. Most of us authors just wrote. We had it easy. But some did double, triple duty. This is the link to all of the amazing artwork, promo video, promo releases. Even if you don't read the story, the spectacular artwork by @dustmouth-blog, @raitala and @eatingfireflies (epithalamium on LJ) you will truly enjoy! Small warning for one or two NSFW.

I'm I beyond proud that it was completed, that I was a part of it, and that it was very well received, but would I do it again. Absolutely I don't know! The arguments over the plot, the sensitivities, 4 folks dropping out for various reasons, but yet we did persevere. One of our disagreements was what the theme song should be. I suggested something lame and got shot down, which was totally fine. Still love the song, though. @raitala suggested a song by Muse, which many others loved. I hated it. I'd hadn't heard of Muse and what I heard I wasn't a fan. I think of that now and laugh because I love Muse and when I'm writing, they're on my playlist. Sorry @raitala, I was wrong.

What I'm Reading:

I think I should rename What I Read. :)

It took me a few nights to read Some Flowers Bloom in the Dark (271K) by @rockingrobin69. I still have to comment on it *makes note to do so*. This is a very intense and disturbing fic to read, but oh so well done. Here is the author's Summary and Note:

Draco is very seriously entangled with someone he only refers to as Sir, or He in the privacy of his own mind. He's been entangled with Him - obsessively, impossibly - for years now, almost as long as he'd been out of prison. So what if he wasn't exactly happy? He was used to this life by now. He knew what to expect, and even if it wasn't always so great, at least he didn't have to think about Azkaban. He didn't need to be saved by some sloppy-haired git. He didn't need anything. Apparently, Potter didn't care. Why, why must he always ruin everything? *All non-con elements and Dom-Sub tones are not between Harry and Draco. *Rough references of abuse. Past and current non-con. Dark, dark, darkness. Then some light.

This is a dark, difficult story of recovery. It's painful, long, with a lot of angst and panic attacks and traumatic everything, so please consider before you read. Mind the tags for possible triggers.

This is the type of fic that you can't stop reading even though there are times you want to put it down, so you wince, you get frustrated with Draco, you get frustrated with Harry, but mainly you fear for Draco. He's been so damaged, yet, he's alive and persevering in the only way he feels he can. But you as the reader know its not a path that is survivable long term. As the fic moves on, that feeling that something horrible (more horrible than the past) is going to happen and the tension is very palpable. The writing of what Draco's feeling and why is spectacular and You absolutely need to get to that end to see what happens. @rockingrobin69 in the summary says 'some light' at the end. I was so so pleased with the ending. Draco did more than survive.

Drarry Tumblr Fic/Art Resources:

I love @weeklydrarryficrecs! It's always fun to see what story they've picked and some of their thoughts at the end. Especially when it says what type of mood it evokes or need it fulfills. I have a small TBR list so when I'm free to start a new fic, and if what I've saved to read I'm not in the mood for, I can pop over to @weeklydrarryficrecs and find what I'm looking for. I also appreciate the mixups of new and old Drarry fics. The top of my TBR is now Temptation on the Warfront (180K) by Aizarincrims0n (AO3), which was recced 3 days ago. It's a canon rewrite, which I'm really really picky about. Looking forward to later tonight when I can pop into this world.

Note: As I mentioned in my last Blog post, this will no longer be a Daily Blog but more on Random days. I'm hoping to do at least 3 a week.

Hope the week ahead is kind to you,

Romaine

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

i have (3) questions to ask, feel free to answer/not as you wish, all for your landoscar verse

would they ever delve into breath play/would they enjoy it

how do you think a spanking scene would come about between them and would oscar love the bruises

does oscar completely stop orgasms unless lando says yes?? or does he still go off his own schedule sometimes

OKAY ANON, I uh...had an incredibly long and nuanced response to this typed out, and then my internet decided to be a raging cunt for some reason, and die (it's done this way too many times in the last two days and i'm pissed about it). I will try and answer with the same amount of detail I did when I wrote the original response, however it took me almost 30 minutes and now i want to yeet my computer at the wall. (and also now i'm being distracted by [redacted] in a chat)

ANSWERS BELOW THE CUT due to the USFW nature, discussions of D/s dynamic, and kink

1 - I have...an incredibly nuanced answer to this question, and it's probably going to come across as a little preachy, so feel free to yell at me in the askbox later about it

CANONICALLY, Lando likes the act of putting his hand on Oscar's throat, at the base of it, fingers gently around it, using it to guide him a little bit. It's possessive, and he LIKES being possessive, and Oscar likes it too. Oscar also likes being man-handled a little bit, but that's neither here nor there (I mean it IS but you get it I think).

For Oscar and Lando both, the part of this that they like IS the possessiveness. It's a reminder that he belongs to Lando, and honestly it makes him kind of feral, it's kind of more of a sign of his submission to Lando more than anything. And for Lando, it's a sign of the trust that Oscar puts in him to care for him, to hold him, and dominate him.

I think that both of them would likely enjoy delving into breath play at least a little bit. I think there's a lot of fun that they could have with it, especially in like...the context of a CNC scene involving breath play, Lando pinning him down, deciding when he can breathe and when he can't. It would be HEAVILY negotiated, however, because breath play is ABSOLUTELY dangerous, and they already have relatively high risk jobs as it is. Even when breath play is done correctly (iykyk), it is still HIGHLY risky, and the ONLY way they would engage in that behaviour would be to have it heavily negotiated. And quite honestly, I think I would bore you all to tears if I wrote that.

On my side of things, and without getting into too much personal lore, I can't say whether or not I'd actually be comfortable writing about it. I'm not a sex educator, and I'm not here to put together a kinky primer, however I've read a VERY well written article that made me change my own mind regarding breath play. This does carry over to my comfortability writing it, because again, I'm not here to write a primer on sex and kink, and I enjoy writing my little guys doing things, and like also not having to worry about people using what I write as a primer for things they want to try.

RISK AWARE CONSENSUAL KINK, FOLKS.

I'm pretty sure my dead response to this was much longer, but I don't remember it all cause my memory ain't that good. Sorry for the monster reply to that, though, and I apologize if this isn't QUITE the answer you're looking for.

2- AHHHH SPANKING, my favourite, my beloved.

SO spanking scenes definitely would come around in two separate ways in this verse.

The first way would literally simply be for like...catharsis, i guess? for lack of a better word. And because saying "for fun" sounds weird. But essentially it would be something in the realm of Oscar feeling shitty about something, and just wanting it to get him out of his head, and focus on something else (this could be any number of things, from a poor race result/shitty strategy call, feeling generally just overwhelmed and needing grounding, or just feeling a little off about things, and needing something a little sharper to help him focus), and honestly Lando's more than happy to oblige. This is a situation in which Oscar would also LIKELY be allowed to come, instead of Lando controlling that too, but again incredibly circumstantial.

The second way would be as a punishment or essentially a funishment, i guess, because Oscar enjoys spanking. This would MORE THAN LIKELY be from Oscar breaking a rule. What rule, you ask? Great question, I don't have any made up for them yet beyond the fact that Oscar's not really allowed to come without Lando's permission, and Lando's hand-wavey rules about Oscar doing better than him in races. This really is Lando's excuse to have Oscar over his knee and writhing in his lap and maybe crying a little bit, and then denying Oscar while he's rutting against Lando's thigh.

I actually would seriously consider writing either one of these situations. If I were to do an alternate version of the first fic I wrote for this verse, I'd probably have included cathartic spanking because Oscar was feelin' a little out of sorts about that race win at Lando's expense.

Oscar (and Lando) would both enjoy seeing the bruises and marks left behind, and I TRULY think that Oscar would blush bright red every time he catches sight of them in a mirror when he's walking by naked or something, and he'd also very much enjoy the achey pain as they heal, and Lando digs his fingers in.

ALSO, very specifically, impact play is just another way Lando gets to indulge in his dacryphilia kink and i just think that's neat.

Very specifically, any impact play scene-ing would likely be done with enough time between race weekends for Oscar to recover, however, because I can't imagine it would be...comfortable.

3 - AHHH yes, the truest of true questions. This is a uh...loaded question. The short answer to this, is that Oscar gives all his orgasms to Lando. This means that Lando gets to decide whether or not he gets to come and how many times he gets to come (and yes that can and may in the future include forced orgasms). This means that if Lando decides he wants to [redacted] Oscar [redacted][redacted][redacted][redacted], he will (I alluded to this in a previous answer to an ask, y'all can fight about what it means in my inbox if you want)

The long answer is as follows:

Lando - Wants to be in control of Oscar's orgasms. There's something something about the power and control that he gets from it, especially when sometimes he feels like he's out of control. It grounds him, in a way, to get to choose what Oscar gets from him and what he doesn't, and like...I'm aware of how this could sound to someone not involved in a D/s relationship or a relationship that doesn't include power exchange, however, there's something inherently cathartic about BDSM and associated kinks, imo. He also really loves the idea that he can get to decide whether or not he thinks Oscar deserves orgasms, whether it's through something completely arbitrary (performing better than him in a race), or for a valid reason (again i have NOT made a rules list for these idiots, and will I truly ever? WHO KNOWS).

The EXCEPTION to this is if they're going to be apart for a long time, or they're not going to be able to interact much. Lando's a little more charitable when he can't be there to take care of Oscar, tbh, but honestly the likelyhood of Oscar coming without at least asking Lando for permission first even in this situation is pretty low.

Oscar - Oscar's view on this is a little more complicated to like...wrap my head around, ironic considering [redacted personal lore here]. The biggest part is that a) it's not a decision he likes to make, he just wants someone else to make it for him. He's in his head a lot, so even if he wants to get off, sometimes he's just so wrapped up in everything else going on in his brain that he can't shut it off enough to have an orgasm, and b) it's kinda fun and sexy.

He definitely gets bratty about it, despite the fact that he actually does want it. And it's not like Lando denies him all the time. it's been very heavily leaned into in my first two fics because of the circumstances that I set (including the rancidity of the vibes that were supposed to be there), but Lando's not going to deny him all the time. (just most of the time ehehehehe). But honestly, some of the brattiness will just make Lando be even meaner. It's also just another way for him to give up the careful, controlled part of him that the rest of the world sees.

Like...you're not cool and put together when you're sobbing because your boyfriend won't let you come.

This is probably not quite as eloquent as I wanted to make this, and really it's hard to describe exact reasons for characters liking what they like, so I hope this makes sense and is kind of the answer that you're looking for.

AS ALWAYS, apologies for the monologue, but y'all came into my (a certified yapper) inbox, and asked me questions about my verse.

Please feel free to hit me up with more, I am ALWAYS here for it.

[amplifyme]

20 Fanfic Questions

Thanks to @randomfoggytiger for tagging me again. This was fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

72. But not all of them are mine. I've been transcribing and posting some fics under a pseud, from Beauty and the Beast 4th Season hardcopy zines written by folks who've since passed on, just so that part of the fandom's history doesn't get lost.

2. What's your total AO3 words count?

1,133,574, but half of those are fics posted under my pseud. Nan Dibble was a writing fiend when it came to her Acquainted With the Night series. 💕

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files, Beauty and the Beast 1987, A Song of Ice and Fire.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Huh, interesting. They’re all ASOIAF/SanSan fics. In descending order: These Scars We Wear, The Calling, Beggar’s Banquet, Blessed Be (The Third Night) and Pas de Deux.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, as often as I can. I feel bad if I don’t. If you can take the time to leave a comment, I can take the time to thank you for it.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Pass You By and Incomplete, both in TXF ‘verse.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I have a few. The Possibility of Being, LifeSongs and Upsidaisium (BATB 1987) and These Scars We Wear and The Calling (ASOIAF). Both these ‘verses seem to lend themselves to happier endings than TXF.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope.

9. Do you write smut. If so what kind?

I used to. I got bored with it. And when it started to feel as though it were expected of me, I lost interest. I still write steamy stuff, just not explicitly anymore. I'd rather you use your imagination instead of mine. 😉

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah. Someone plagiarized one of my TXF fics back in the day and reposted it for The Nanny fandom. Who knew?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Several, mostly the ASOIAF fics.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes, once. I collaborated with Alanna Baker on a TXF fic called Doors.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Can’t narrow it down to one and you can’t make me. But the Big 3 are Mulder and Scully, Vincent and Diana, Sandor and Sansa. I do love me some big, tortured and damaged men in romantic relationships with stubborn redheaded women. What can I say? It's my kink.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The case file I started for TXF many, many moons ago. Sticks and Stones. It’s dead in the water.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue is the big one. I think my pacing is pretty good, and I have a feel for knowing what POV should be used when and where – and how to stick to that (I can't tolerate wandering POVs). I think I'm good at showing body language and tone in a way that's in-character and doesn't hit you over the head. Is it a strength to know when and how to ignore “common” writing rules? If so, I think I’m pretty good at that, too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to overthink things, which leads to too much exposition. I try to cut out as much of that as I can when doing final edits. The danger there lies in cutting too much, though. It’s a fine line I’m still learning to navigate. I generally suck at plotting anything unless the muse steps in and demands to take over. Now that I think about it, most of the very favorites of my fics are long and plot heavy, which makes no sense. I’m also not so great at beginnings, but my middles and ends are usually shiny. Is it a weakness to be The World's Slowest Writer? (On second thought, I think GRRM would beat me at that.) But yeah, takes me forever to get anything done. So that, as well.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have, but I do it sparingly. I added a few short sentences in Italian for The Possibility of Being. Thank you Google.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Beauty and the Beast. 1990-ish or so. I've been at this for a while.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Nope. Can’t do it. That’s like asking me to pick a favorite child. I love them all, for various reasons particular to each one.

[twodiamondhoes]

Oh wow, I didn't realize my ask would be replied back with a fic snippet!

Concept 1 sounds a bit like The Highwayman so I'm glad Dirges took a new turn (the snippet was awesome though!). Concept 2, though, that sounds so cool! I'd love to see a fic where Tango takes more of a proactive role in death and protection as a soulkeeper! Maybe you could spin it into an AU with it's own brand of spookiness, with or without Del Sombra.

I now want to ask another thing: what made you decide to use Empires characters in Dirges? And are we going to see more of them in the character stories?

Haha, hope you enjoyed it! I figured it would just end up continuing to collect dust in my docs folder otherwise, and your ask was the perfect reason to post it.

This got longer than expected, so I'm going to put it under a cut. :D

Fun fact 2! I was about halfway through plotting the revamped second concept when I read The Highwayman (if you haven't read it, go go go!! it's so good) and let me tell you, the crisis I had once I'd finished it and come down from that "I just read an excellent fic" high was major. I was in full on panic mode for a few days, worried that even though I'd already changed so much from that original concept that Dirges would still be too similar. My partner had to remind me that there are entire library sections out there that are similar premises with vastly different executions (please see: westerns, lol), that no one could write the story I had in my head but me, and that even if no one read Dirges, it would still be worth writing.

But let me tell you there was a period of twenty-four hours where I tried to think up a fic that I would want to write more than Dirges for the sake of the Big Bang and I just couldn't. So in the end, I kept going, ended up with the final concept for Dirges, re-plotted the whole thing, and then basically ate, slept, and breathed Dirges for about four months. I'm not going to be doing that with the sequels because holy smokes that was a lot of writing in a very very short time, but I still can't quite believe I pulled it off in the end.

As far as Soulkeeper Tango goes, I might see about giving him his own au! The idea is so near and dear to my heart. I've got a lot on the docket for the future, but I'm going to keep him in the back of my head, in the hopes that inspiration strikes and I can give him the story he deserves. I have toyed with the idea of a smaller fic, loosely based around the original Concept 2 plotline for Dirges (so basically an au of my own au lol), but we'll see!

Oooh excellent question! The short answer is, I needed a huge cast. The longer answer is, it felt odd to have Jimmy be the only non-hermit in the entire story, and to separate him from his buddies on other servers, especially because I wanted Lizzie as the fourth Ratcliffe sibling, so it would be Lizzie and Jimmy versus the Hermitcraft members. There was also the factor that both Pearl and Gem were on Empires 1, and the HC/Empires crossover made it an easy leap to make. I wanted Jimmy to have been able to make friends, and to make the world feel populated, without having Del Sombra be the only place the Hermits congregated, since I'd already made Joe Hills Mayor of another town, and the places I could think to put a lot of the other hermits were Elsewhere. My options ended up being: either come up with a bunch of OCs, or see if I could sprinkle in some Empires characters, and it all kind of spiraled from there! I wasn't sure how people would receive a plethora of OCs, and since the Hermitcraft cast was a limited pool of folks that I'd already placed in the world, I figured adding in some other MCYTs couldn't hurt. So, I started with Shelby and Sausage and it all kind of fell into place from there!

As for if we'll be seeing them in the other stories, absolutely! There are some Hermits I haven't included yet (sorry Iskall, my beloved), and there are parts of some of the sequels that will be taking place around some of the Empires members as well as HC members that we've seen, and some that we haven't! For example, the reason Iskall isn't in Del Sombra to pester Stress and the others is because he's a holdover from one of the Earlier Concepts and I like his role too much to change it, so it's going to be folded into one of the later stories. Oli will also be showing up at a couple of very specific points! Those are the two examples off the top of my head, but there is definitely more to come!

Thank you for the questions! This is a lot of fun XD

[phoebe-delia]

Self Rec Tag Game

Thank you to the LOML @basicallyahedgehog for the tag! I adore you.

Recommend us 3 of YOUR fics: 1 that is “most popular” and 2 that are “hidden gems.” Then tag some folks.

Most Popular: "You Are In Love"

Info: Drarry, 3k, rated T, 5 Times Draco Malfoy Said He Loved Harry Potter Without Saying It + 1 Time He Finally Said It

My Thoughts: When I read this now, it's about 50/50 whether or not I cringe lol. I do like some of the jokes, and I'm truly glad people like him.

Hidden Gem 1: "Infinity"

Info: Drarry, 2k, happy ending, mini trilogy, light angst with a happy ending, alternating POV

My Thoughts: I have such a fondness for this little series. I loved writing it. Though part of me wants to write another for The Archer (the song for part 3) but I digress.

Hidden Gem 2: "Faith, Trust & Pixie Dust"

Info: Rated T, no romantic ship (Hinny as friends), 7k, mild gore, Peter Pan AU

My Thoughts: Yaaalll the mental ups and downs I've had with this fic. I'm ultimately so so proud of it. It was the longest thing I'd written at the time, and I agonized over every choice I made. But I was determined to write it because I saw SO many parallels between Peter Pan and Harry Potter. But it has 22 kudos LOL. So it took a lot of soul searching for me to realize that my pride in it had to come from the work, and not the stats, so I let it go and focused on my accomplishment 💛💛💛

And no pressure tagging some friends: @phd-mama, @peachpety, @makeitp1nk, @dearly-devoted-dawdler, @whataboutmyfries, @purplehotmess