#i don't have much muse for my drafts and i want things so !!!

[tvrningout-a]

gonna be honest, the sheer amount of drafts i have makes me want to perish and thus even entering my drafts inspires the urge to run away immediately ASDFGFD

[byanyan]

hggghghgh okay i did a few things tonight, which is already more than i expected. it's a good start!! i feel a little less overwhelmed, which is what i needed. i'm gonna aim to do more tomorrow, probably (hopefully) focusing more on the threads from my last starter call? but we'll... see how things go

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[the-crooked-library]

Alright so it seems that I'm not quite done beating the horse that is the Bacon triptych - because the potential layers in its presence have me absolutely enthralled. As a visual element, it illustrates the "currently unfolding" part of the drama, but also appears to allude to a story that's yet to come; and, granted, that may be the brainrot speaking, but my art history fixation is insisting that there's gold in them hills, so bear with me here.

As tenuous as it may seem at first glance, I firmly believe that the writing itself supports my fascination with this piece. It demands to be noticed. It is a vivid splash of red in a box of brutalist grey; and, furthermore, unlike the other paintings in the Dubai penthouse, it's written into the dialogue. The camera lingers there - hence, the series wants us to pay attention; and, while its subject-level significance is not to be discarded, I cannot help but see another, similarly emotional allusion within the same frames.

Instead of drawing from the painting, this story layer connects more to the artist himself. One of the most notable periods of Francis Bacon's personal life was his relationship with George Dyer, which lasted from the 1960s to the early 1970s. Unlike his previous paramours - who were largely older (and, in the case of the last, abusive) men, Dyer was a young addict. Described as someone who could "throw a decisive punch," he was nevertheless vulnerable and trusting; as such, Bacon took on a dominant role, and Dyer became his muse. Among Bacon's portraits, he was ever-present; and though the relationship was tumultuous, often overwhelmed by their shared addictions, those paintings are uncharacteristically tender.

The story ended with tragedy - it's an account of drugs, alcoholism, neediness, dependence, classism, friction, and Dyer's eventual suicide; and within the context of IWTV, this framework is undeniably thematically relevant.

From the beginning - a decade-long involvement, addiction, an uncharacteristic tenderness - beat for beat, the book version of Devil's Minion is the same story, happening only a few years off. The presence of the Bacon painting within the Dubai penthouse is, in my opinion, an indicator to it having happened in the show as well. Just like Dyer, the TV version Daniel met Armand in a pub (or bar); just like Dyer, he is compact, athletic, pale, working-class - and, when under the influence, boisterous and active.

There is, naturally, one key difference; unlike Dyer, Daniel survives.

In the Doylist sense, the painting, therefore, acts as a visual cue - almost as evidence, of sorts. The memory of their entanglement may be effaced, but the blood-red stain of it is impossible to ignore, as is this placement:

I don't believe it is accidental that the painting is sold almost as soon as Daniel arrives in Dubai. It is an indication that the Devil and his Minion are no longer locked within a determined ending; their story continues, and memories are replaced with the real, living thing.

Edit: it bears pointing out that, while I had this post hanging in my drafts, convinced that I was reading far too much into something that already had another reason to exist, it's been announced that the relationship between Daniel and Armand is, in fact, going to be explored within the series. My every wish has been granted, and I can hardly wait.

[olderthannetfic]

This isn't a complaint, just sort of a musing-- Yeah, if AO3 allowed monetization, it would cause the whole platform to become way shittier, not just for legal reasons. But this kind of reminds me of something I've thought about a lot.

I'm someone who's not a very strong or attentive reader, but the ease with which I can find thousands of appealing works on AO3 means I have ALSO found dozens of writers who grip me enough that I would read ANYTHING by them. I also find reviews and recs for popular book series' to be... very unreliable, but I can consistently find interesting works by looking at user bookmarks and by trawling tags. And I don't even mean in a "oh, this user doesn't want stories, they want tropes" way, because I'm with everyone else that reading the exact same enemies to lovers romance gets kind of boring after a while (no shade on people who enjoy that sort of thing). I mean that sometimes I find an idea and think 'oh, this is a VERY cool literary theme; I wonder how other writers have explored the same idea?' - and then find out that there's a canonical tag that sees very little use, and trawl through people exploring the same ideas about the nature of freedom when you have a duty to family (or whatever it is this time) until I find one that just NAILS it and sets my brain on fire.

In other words, AO3 is the only place I can get the same reading experience that I had in school where there were teachers and mentors who would not only do just about anything to help me find interesting stuff, but also knew me personally and would help me find extremely specific concepts like "I want a story that captures the feeling of being completely owned by another person and the oppressive surrendering of will that comes with it, but which isn't about slavery, religion, or marriage" or "I want a story that's just like Howl's Moving Castle but specifically in these three ways."

I don't wish AO3 was marketplace, but I wish there was marketplace that gave me the experience of AO3. The fact that there is SO MUCH free user generated content on AO3, and that it's so easy to explore with great specificity, means it's the only place I KNOW I'll find something fun. I wish it served as a platform to find professional artists doing silly stuff on their down time. (In fact, last time I fell in love with a fic, I got to talking to the author, who sent me a novel draft with all of the same themes but original characters and setting. That unpublished work is now one of my favorite books.)

I can think of a bunch of platform ideas that would scratch this itch for me, but I can't imagine any of them working out as well since the fandom experience and culture is such an integral part of why fanfic is different from original fic. (And also since monetization makes platforms get shitty fast.)

--

[lilacstro]

"so you can't sleep? baby I know, that's that me espresso"~ pac: who's up thinking about you

hey y'all, i hope you are fine. It had been a while since I made a pac, so I saved a few drafts that I will be posting. This song is really cool though :D I had a few new decks and I really wanted to use them

so an advice for all of you before you even start to read regardless of your situation: YOU CANNOT RELATE TO DESPERATIONN

she is so pretty btw <3

decks used: spirit speaks tarot, cupid says oracle

paid readings are open :)

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

support me on ko-fi :)

Pile 1

Before I even started I had a feeling what if this is someone who pile 1 went out on a date with recently lol. Now hold up, it isn't like everyone must have had date, and there are messages that should resonate. I feel the VERY first thing I am most definitely sure of, is that this someone BRAND NEW. I feel they see you like a muse, like a star. Either you, or them are most definitely introverted, and it is making things a little difficult either way. With the star card here, I have a feeling that this could be someone who you might have not met yet, but they are fantasizing about, Jimin's new song's lyrics came up "We never met, but she's all I see at night...Who is my heart waiting for" my heart is racing and I am becoming extremely excited, like the first feeling of love. This is someone who would bring balance in your life, would give and receive equally. Some of you could have anxious attachment styles, although I would say healing it inside, but this person would not let you go, like hold you in a tight hug. I have a feeling some of you might still be holding onto the past, and there is a CLEAR message to release it, because it is confusing this person, especially if you are able to tell who this might be, and for those who cannot, this will just hinder the energy. This person gonna make you feel your worth, so so much more, somewhat like an Empress. I am stumbling on my words lmao and idk i feel excited, this is new beginning feeling, I am so happy. There is a chance you might resist this connection out of fear of repeating the past, maybe you are even emotionally closed off after what happened in the past, but if you are able to discern, let this person in. Their is a lot of hope and sweet wishful energy, and a fun new start that would complete you overall. There is a lot of major arcana here, so this is indeed something that the divine will orchestrate themselves.

Messages:

I want you (awww) I am confused (this is especially if you are talking about your past excessively with someone who you suspect could like you, or you are closed off or clinging to the past) take the road less trodden I just want to know why I feel the same Don't give up on us :( this pile has peak espresso energy man you have this person in awe regardless

Pile 2

This could be someone who wasted your time I feel. I also heard a message ping in even though there was no message, so this person is either thinking of reaching out or would but via messages. Do you guys wanna know, how suddenly the energy switched in pile 2. Pile 1's happy butterfly feelings feel anxious here, upsetting. My throat feels warm, there is a chance you have spoke, or I may say argued a lot with this person. Super clear, this is someone who did you dirty. Someone who is up at night thinking about you, crying not because of espresso but depresso lol. There is a lot of tears kind of imagery in this deck, and I am seeing so much of that here. This is someone who you gave away a lot to without balance. Someone you walked away from after a lot of heavy feelings. Someone that filled you with rage and maybe burnt your hopes away. It feels like you were looking at this person, giving them so much, and they were busy looking somewhere else, doing something else. There is so much of emotional disbalance inside this person and could have been in your connection too. Someone who is choosing you after everything has been spilled. I feel there could have been a divine intervention in this connection to stop your energy from flowing to this person, probably they ghosted you, or went away or things crumbled entirely overnight or maybe you had an overnight epiphany. There is some justice that was brought to this unequal flow of balance. This person wants to make things right by choosing you and yada yada but I would just stop here, this feels so much guilt and heavy of a feeling. I feel the communication with this person is not there at all. This is someone who is in fact wanting to reach out to you and talk to you, but too scared that the fire they set in you would burn them away(damn I got poetic)

Messages:

I want you I just want to know why be patient heal yourself first (this more so is an extra message, that is from spirit I feel, because I found this at the last slipping out of the deck) i want to give up why am i crying

Pile 3

The energies here are similar to Pile 2 and I tried reshuffling the cards all over twice. It feels confusing to me. This feels this was chaotic, everything at once, there is pain but love and anger and resentment but desire irdk what is up with this pile. I have a feel there could have been a situation where one of you went away from your home or left something behind to do your own thing, while that may hurt this is something that would lead to a much greater growth for whoever this is, you or them. This is giving me situationship vibes. There is a chance either of you are trying to reach out but there is some disconnection, like you are watching a video and midway your internet is gone and you take a while to realize why am I even looking at my phone and reloading there is no internet in the first place. This could be someone who you have a fight with or argument or some kind of separation which to me feels temporary because it is happy ending in this pile. There is a chance both of you are being really in your feels, I may say, overdramatic in some ways, like oh, we are never going to be.

Lyrics from Taylor Swift’s song gold rush came up “ and then it fades into a gray of my day old tea , cause we could never be”

But both of you want each other, there was a clear message that tried sliding out over and over and it said “the feelings are mutual”, so while there could be some resemblance to pile 2, this situation is much more complex and layered. There is a temporary disconnect and you guys would re connect again, and I am feeling this strongly. There is some fixing going on. Consider the previous example of an off internet connection, but you just find out that it is a temporary service error and though it would take a little time and interrupt my experience, this would make it more stable and stronger, so I can wait. Strong Leo moon vibes, maybe something happened around that time or maybe you could have this placement or the other person.

Ahh, I do not even know if I did a good job in putting things down but I just feel it, there is a lack of words I feel, and a lot of confusion. I also think both of you do miss each other. I also feel some of you are probably even, maybe choking your feelings or intuitions? Maybe feeling a flood of things that you are just keeping to your self. This person or you or both could be trying to find each other in the most mundane things, in everyone they meet and everytime they might see messy hall room

I do not know if these messages were delivered in the most accurate way tbh, there is such a flood of feelings here.

Messages: this was meant to be There are no what ifs take a moment to breathe it starts from you no more secrets.

[mtchacffinz]

to be loved for you

prompt!!! Dan Heng never dealt with jealousy. He learns bitterly that sometimes, he can't deal with it rationally!

content!!! SFW, gn! reader, fluff, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, first kiss, clingy! Dan Heng

note!!! I love him too much. So far, all he's been getting from me is fluff 💔 frankly, i cant muster any freaky-freaky stuff with this man 🤔 got anything? my asks are open 🩷

To be someone who relied on relations by circumstance, you would always cherish each and every one of those who cross your path. May they be old and wise, or young and restless— Greeting them with the brightest smile, they'd always find themselves enamoured by your energy. Maybe this is why you attract so many people? Dan Heng was aware of that. He never spoke up about it, though. After all, he was one of the many who was caught bulls eye with each strum of his heart.

He knew you were capable of fending off threats yourself. He knew you were somebody who could defend someone from harms way.. and he especially knew just how gentle and kind you treat everybody.

Oh, what is he doing? Sulking all by himself in the archives. Dan Heng's thoughts ran rampant the past minutes. This happens when he's alone or sitting idly by. The poor man's thoughts catch up to him leaving him disgruntled. The thing is, you could always see it in his face.

You've been out and about for a while. He misses you, you know. Not that he would admit! Dan Heng's stubborn, just like that. He's definitely not mulling over how you're attention has been elsewhere, either. He doesn't mind. You have the freedom to do what you want! Just leave him sulking here in the archives unattended, it's okay.

The teal eyed prince clicks his tongue. That chatty, flirty, touchy writer. At first, Dan Heng thought that he was quite a man. The writer guy was nice and respectful with a golden gaze for things that were held high. That said, the Author quickly took interest in you.

He was never one to be possessive. Why should he? You're not even in a relationship. But sometimes, as soon as the guys hands find their way towards yours, intertwining in a clasp, something in him dims. Suddenly, his eyes can't leave your figure. It was your smile again, and Dan Heng's not at the receiving end of it.

You're not on the express today, either. A shame. Seriously, that guys been hogging you all week! What's up with that? Don't even get him started on "(Y/n), my muse. Accompany me today?" bullcrap! It's nothing but a sappy excuse to get into your pants so bad! Seriously, the absurdity. Dan Heng shakes off the thoughts before they continue. Did you know? Just by his gaze alone, someone could freeze in their place— like daggers against their back.

"Hmm? Mr. Ferr, are you okay?"

"It's nothing, my sweet, I strangely caught a shiver in my spine.." the author, Ferr, replied calmly.

"Okay. So about your first draft.."

Draft this, draft that, can't he got an editor instead?!

Irk marks basically float up his head just thinking about what they're talking about right now. Can you blame him? He's been neglected.

Dan Heng slaps himself, hard.

Woah. He's getting way ahead of himself. Him? Neglected? In what way? Again, it's not like you're both in a relationship. It's not like he's entitled to your affection in any way. Dan Heng really needs to calm down. Lately, all he's been doing is updating the archives. He's also learned of what you will be traveling for next, and added data with a note addressed to you as well. His calloused hands were flipping through various pages all day, pulling apart scrolls and wiping away holograms.

His thoughts become strangely quiet. His presence was like frost.. constant. A little chilly. He starts to fiddle with his fingers, his gloves, and his nails.

He really misses you a lot.

Can you come back soon?

Dan Heng sighs. He stands up with his impeccable posture as usual. Those arms held scrolls and books, and puts them back where he got them from. At this point, he's zoned out. He exits the Archives, strolling near the parlor car. Light footsteps echo throughout the space with Dan Heng taking in the air of tranquility within the express; It seemed like everyone had their own agenda today.

Well, except for one.

"Dan Heng," Himeko's sweet, gentle voice called out for him. The boy turned towards her, a little surprised. She smiles, and beckons him to sit with her. Her silky locks framing perfectly on her face, she put a stray strand behind her ear. "Come, I have coffee to share."

Dan Heng was indeed in dire need of indulgence. Without hesitation, he walked over to the red head and sat down. He forgot how comfortable the sofa was.. his nerves began to relax. Himeko starts to pour the hot beverages into elegant coffee cups, befitting if her style. It was comfortable silence, the stars glistened into glass windows— reflecting the beauty of life. Himeko seems to have noticed his aloof vibe, joining him to stare at the stars. Opening her lips, Himeko starts.

"You've been busy for a while."

"Being an archivist is a lot of work, huh?"

"I have."

"It's fine." The gentle lady can't help but chuckle. He's so dry. This only confirms her hypothesis. That daunting look on his figure may intimidate some, but not Miss Himeko. Never Miss Himeko. She doesn't want to expose her hidden agenda now, but she just can't wait to run her mouth. After all, Dan Heng's been down the weather and it's very obvious as to why.

"(Y/n) wanted me to prepare these for you. Enjoy them." She takes a sip. His expression softened. Dan Heng can't help but think bitterly. It'd be lovely if they were her to prepare these herself, but the teal eyed prince quickly take back the thought.

"I'm thankful.. but why? Is there an occasion? I don't seem to recall any." He speaks in a cautious manner. The woman only sighs, a palm on her cheek.

"Be honest with me, Dan Heng." Her tone quickly changed. Now her eyes are staring into his. Like it was rummaging through his soul. Dan Heng's feet were cold. He couldn't contest her gaze, so he averts his eyes. Himeko frowns at this, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Your eyes betray you greatly."

He was a little taken aback. His eyes? He was never expressive. He was sure he'd been called at least poker faced and stoic before.. Dan Heng's brows narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Himeko only chuckles, dismissing her last claim. "I'll tell you what. They'll be here soon.. and they're going to leave just as quickly." She adds the last statement with dramatic disdain before the elegant lady takes a sip once again. Dan Heng's stomach drop. Ah.. he's lost the appetite to even finish his mug. Himeko continues. "Ferr is taking them to a space station for one of his projects. Given the current circumstances, they have no reason to refuse."

His face scrunched in annoyance upon hearing the name again. Mr. Ferr this, Mr. Ferr that! He's getting sick of him. Taking (Y/n) on a space ship? How long will that take? Is it some sort of rendevous? A date?

..will you come back?

"i don't think that decision befalls to us. (Y/n) is capable of making decisions.."

"I don't want them to go."

"..on their own because— wait, what?"

Himeko chuckles dryly. "I don't want (Y/n) to go, you know? It's selfish thought, I know. But, it's good to be selfish once and a while now, right?"

That was a half baked lie. First of all, Himeko fully supports what (Y/n) wants. But Ferr.. isn't exactly known for his patience. Himeko knows full well as soon as (Y/n) steps in the spaceship— he'd pull something like a proposal! A profession, a deal! She's not stupid, Himeko is far from dense. The Scientist knows that the Author has a huge thing for you, and it shows. And knowing Dan Heng? He'd just nod along albeit against it. She can't just stand here and let them distance each other! Himeko's seen it.. that prying gaze of a distraught, pining lover.. the watchful eyes of a lovestruck persona. The only way to get a stubborn man to act, is through tremendous pressure!

Dan Heng's lips pursed.

"And you want me to.."

"You don't have to, really."

"But.. if it will benefit them, should we encourage it? After all, they're energetic and knows their way with words. There must be some sort of good reasoning behind his invitation."

"I don't know. Do you want them to go?"

"I.." Dan Heng couldn't finish his sentence. He couldn't form a response at all. Does he want you to go? If you would enjoy yourself, he'd love to allow it.. If you'd return with a smile on your face, tell him all about what happened, he'd love to receive you with utmost sincere..

Even if it took atleast a hundred years for you to return to him.

...Hundred years his ass! You will not spend a hundred years with that man!

"If (Y/n) wants to, I personally don't see why not." Dan Heng's thoughts actively contrasted his responses. A stubborn man.. Himeko sighs, an apologetic smile on her lips. Finally backing away, the lovely lady puts down her mug and sits straight.

"It's okay to be honest. After all, they.. wish for something."

Dan Heng replies quickly in a heart beat. "I will be honest, then. I want their wish fulfilled."

"Then you better greet them in tip-top shape." Himeko winks saying this, standing up to excuse herself. Dan Heng tilts his head in this, not quite sure if what the she's implying. Himeko only had that knowing smirk on her pristine face. The lady excuses herself promptly, leaving Dan Heng all by himself. The man is once again left alone with his thoughts, except this time, he has new material to work with.

"Great..." He huffs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just.. splendid." God, his head hurts. He's tired and he's drowsy. At this point, he doesn't find anything of urgency at the moment— only thinking about grasping that sudden warmth the sofa beneath him exerts. Dan Heng would like to find peace of mind at least once in a while. Both that in mind, his eyes find their way to the Parlor ceiling, half lidded and tired.

Slowly, his breathing calms down.. and slowly, his eyes drift closed, consciousness slipping away from his grasp.

Slowly.. the darkness embraced him, and his body rested in slumber.

You stand a little surprised.

After all, Dan Heng was casually sitting upright— his eyes closed. Is he napping? Is he okay? You're not sure, and you're concerned. Frankly, you were supposed to be here for him— feeling that he deserves at least an apology that you haven't been getting back to his messages in a while. But looking at the sight.. he looks like he's accompanied at the moment.

Such a hard working guard. The guard of the express, the unmatched Archivist of the Nameless.. the one who would always hold your heart gently. You swore if he blew air on your figure, you'd crumble immediately. The only one who'd sway your heart. That's how much power he holds, his whole fingers wrapped around your being with an invisible string keeping you binded to him.

You curb a grin. Strolling near your quarters, you pick up something warm. A blanket. You envelop his stature in a comfortable tuck, pausing for a moment to take in the melancholic state Dan Heng's exhibiting. The handsome prince's eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly apart. If he's sitting upright sleeping, then he must be atleast tired enough to sleep but still be on his feet.

But he doesn't know that, he doesn't need to.

"Ah.." was all Dan Heng could muster. You look back at him in a awe, but quickly recovered. You didn't remove his hands on your wrist, you held onto them instead. The archivists eyes softened, his brows relaxing. You attempt to give him a smile, defusing the tension.

Your sightseeing was cut short when Dan Heng started to stir, his eyes fluttering open. It was for a short moment, the first those greyish teal eyes found their way towards yours.. and the way they slightly widened upon meeting gazes with you, Dan Heng's slender, warm fingers slowly snuck their way toward your wrist; apprehending their movements further. Dan Heng held onto you like you were unreal, like you were unbelievable. Oh, he looks stricken. He looks.. almost as surprised as you. Dan Heng doesn't say anything yet, the blanket that was once on him fell off just a little while ago.

"Hey. Sorry. It looks like I woke you up.." You offer an apologetic smile. He quickly shakes his head at this, responding to you in haste.

"No.. no. Don't apologize."

"I have a lot of apologizing to do."

"No, you.." before he could finish, he cuts himself off. Why must he be so accepting? He keeps brushing his feelings aside, and before he knows it, he utters something he doesn't even mean. No, he's not okay. No, it's not fine. You upset him greatly. He couldn't focus on anything because you weren't answering his messages. Your phone was unreachable.

You had Dan Heng worried sick. What if something happened to you? You reckless, Trusting, thick skulled—

"Everything good?"

Your voice immediately snaps him out of his thoughts. Dan Heng let's out a small breath, his hands still clutching yours. He was still sitting down, and you were towering over him. God.. just by your gaze alone, he's already so full. If you could just stay with him a little longer, he feels like this churning in his stomach would go away soon. He wants you so bad, he needs you so bad.. he doesn't want you to let go anytime soon.

To your surprise, Dan Heng himself removed his hold on you. His movements were slow and languid, like a flow of water within the rivers. Moving in chorus, mellifluous.. elegantly. You can't take your eyes off him at all. Dan Heng clung to your waist. His warm body enveloped your lower half, nuzzling deep into your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp.

Suddenly, your face is hot. Your stomach was dancing with abundant butterflies, and you don't know where to put your hands. As if the archivist could read your mind, his hands led yours into his head, fingers entangling itself into those dark locks. They were so soft.. so warm and lovely. Your hands run through his hair gently— cherishing just how close he is to you at this moment. What's up with him? He seems to be a little more laid back.

Dan Heng shifts in his place. That's when he finally looks up at you. His arms around you, eyes looking directly at yours. You could see his expression.. eyes soft. Gentle. A slight pout— face flushed. It looks like he wants to say something, and it's still processing in that pretty head of his.

Dan Heng's hold on you tightens, you didn't fail to notice. He wants to be selfish for once. Let him be selfish for once. Just once. With a small breath and a soft tone, he finally utters.

"Don't go."

It was getting harder and harder to calm your heart down, and that didn't get any better.

Your heart immediately melts, and your knees almost gave out. What? Go where? Has the rumours already spread? Whatever it was, it's not happening. Especially if he asked you, it's already set in stone. "I won't. Not anywhere." You respond tenderly. Dan Heng's eyes lit up. You swore his fingers even twitched just a little bit. A little more after, his face suddenly scrunched. The archivists' frame was decorated with blazing hues of red. Whatever he's thinking seems to strain him so. Not even bothering to give you time to further analyze, he stands up from his seat, arms still around you. This time, you have no idea what'll he do. Dan Heng's eyes averted yours, hesitantly taking a step closer. My.. your palms are starting to sweat. This is the effect of anticipation.

When he pulled back from you, Dan Heng quickly analyzed your expression to see even a tinge of displeasure. Now you.. face decorated with the hue of peony, looked awe struck. Absolutely enchanted.. bewildered, blown. Gathering your nerves to work back up again, your eyes slowly trailed back to his nervous ones: awaiting your reaction.

"..You can hit me after this." Dan Heng suddenly says, making you tilt your head in confusion. So carefully, he cupped your cheeks. Whatever that was you were going to say was caught in your throat. There was a bubbling feeling in your chest, waiting to pop open; and as soon as his lips brushed past yours, it popped so beautifully vibrant it blinded your vision for but a moment. As your eyes fluttered closed and his eyes half lidded, he greedily drank the sight of you from his eyes.

Dan Heng's eyes widened once you grabbed his collar— smashing your lips back to his. The kiss you've given him burned with fervor, impatient, like you've been yearning for more. You were starved of his lips— like a lone hawk hunting for aeons.

Now that the opportunity presented itself, might as well make the most of it.

The archivist had a hard time keeping up with you, keeping the both of you straight by holding the small of your back. Your arms were in Dan Heng's chest— eagerly taking him in yours. By the time you both ran out of air, you were standing in amidst the parlor car— with the stars accompanying the moment being the sole witness. You could hear Dan Heng's heartbeat whilst you rest your head on his chest. Clutching his jacket, it was tempting to go for another one again.

There was silence. A lot of words hung out in the air. The first to cut through the already light air around you was you.

"For how long?"

Dan Heng breathed heavily, burying his nose into your hair. He thinks about it for a long time before finally answering.

"Quite a while."

i went a little overboard sorry! (⁠●⁠´⁠⌓⁠`⁠●⁠) edited it a lil bit

[oliswamp]

Anxious Manwhore AU: Extended family edition

tags via @nightmarearian

Yes, yes, and yes. To those not in the known, Laertes was Ody's father. Specifying this because there's also Hamlet character of the same name lol.

My musings under cut!

Laertes having unspecified sort of mental illness resulting in psychosis just Makes Sense. Maybe he had schizoaffective disorder? Jumping between depression and (hipo)mania he has shown Odysseus how to deal with various mental states, and although it was a huge baggage for the entire family, Ody loves his father to bits.

Odysseus knows his father both as his best (hunting that fucking Boar; Argonauts) and the worst, his depressive episodes when he wouldn't want to even show his face to the people.

When Ody starts experiencing hallucinations and delusions, Laertes tries to help as much as he can with his experiences.

They both feel pretty helpless about the state of the lineage though, because who would want to marry someone with such baggage, even if they were a king?

And then comes Penelope. Penelope with her own baggage, but so much understanding and resourcefulness, she completely blows them away with her methods of dealing with mental stuff. She listens, understands, and helps.

Laertes has a conversation with Odysseus that goes: "if you don't marry her and worship the ground she walks on, I'm going to disinherit you". It's an empty threat, they both know Odysseus already worships the ground Penelope walks on.

Later, once they're expecting a child, Laertes prays to any god who listens that little Telemachus (or Telemachia, depending on what gender the child is gonna turn out) doesn't have the same baggage as his father.

The gods only kind of listen.

Telemachus is autistic. (Did you know autism was considered a symptom of schizophrenia until very recently? Like. It literally was not considered its own thing until like 1980)

More on my headcanons later, I really need to do my homework now, but to reiterate: I completely agree with the tags. Especially since I'm schizoaffective myself.

So yeah! Tune in later for more AU thoughts, and perhaps the first draft of the song! (I promise nothing)

Taglist: @the-beloved-genloss-niki (ask to be added and I'll @ you each time I make a post about this au!)

[nectardaddy]

notebook paper | hinata shoyo

chapter fourteen | your mom [ ✎ ]

masterlist

no smau parts in this one.

cw: idk how to say it but that moment when the stress hits you all at once

He couldn't help the small chuckle passing his lips, leaving as a snort as brown eyes tracked scrawled words on a piece of paper. Repeatedly reading over the worksheet he volunteered himself to grade, but stopped at an answer he had found particularly funny. "Is 'deez nuts' the right answer to what can describe an object's motion?" He asked sarcastically through a chuckle.

The woman next to him let out a laugh at his question, "no way they wrote that." Looking over to the worksheet he had in front of him with a silly smile, "oh my god," speaking through a giggle as her eyes caught the answer. "I'll grade that one," she mused, "we can trade. I love writing notes on their papers when they write stupid answers."

They both sat at the kitchen table of her apartment. Papers and colorful pens strewn about and her laptop open to a draft of a lesson plan, long forgotten as she helped the man grade beside her. She slid the paper that was once in front of him towards herself, and gave him the paper she was grading instead. "Oh god, what are you going to write?" Questioning her with laugh, seeing as she had already started writing.

"You'll see," she mused. And he watched as she furiously wrote on the paper in red ink, a smirk pulling at the edges of her lips.

Leaning over to see what the woman was writing, arm brushing over her own as he did, he let out a loud cackle at only the first two words. Boldly written, with an arrow pointing to the very answer he said aloud, "holy shit!" He said within a laugh, "you did not just write your mom!"

Her smirk pulled further into a brighter smile as she finally stopped writing, placing the pen down and looking over to him. Just under the cheeky note, there were parentheses reading: (won't like the grade you're going to get with this answer. Do it over again.) "They think the notes are funny," she shrugged with a chuckle. "Most of the time they'll do it over again, too."

There was a brief moment of pause, barely lasting more than a few seconds but one the man found himself enthralled with. "You really don't know how amazing you are, do you?" Breaking the silence as he thought aloud, looking to her like a moth to a flame. Tracing over every feature of her face as if to memorize it, as to never forget how bewitching she truly was. "You're a really good teacher."

"You're just saying that," brushed off the compliment with a small laugh. Averting her eyes to look back at the worksheet with baited breath.

"No I'm not," he defended. "Majority of these papers are good grades, or at least looks like they're trying. You're teaching it in a way they understand it," he reasoned. "And you do things they think is funny; they obviously like you."

He saw the woman falter, her smile fall slowly as she thought about his words - an impact she never knew was possible. "Yeah," was all she could say before lifting her hands to her face, letting out a loud sigh as she did. Putting her hands to her eyes and dragging down, an exhausted look now taking center stage of her emotions.

He felt his heart plummet, thinking he, somehow, took a misstep with his words. Taking in a version of her he'd never seen in person, but allowing the space all the same. "Hey," trying to draw her attention, "you alright? I didn't mean to upset you, I just thought you needed to hear it."

His question hung for a moment, voice kind and tone nothing but caring, looking over at her with a concern beyond him. "I did," her voice was soft, a crack within her comment that caused his shoulders to drop. Oh fuck I made her cry. "You have no idea how much I did."

He wanted to comfort her, to remedy whatever flood he had caused within her mind; wanted nothing more than to see her smile again rather than look away with watery eyes. So it was a natural instinct for him to gently draw her forward, to pull her cautiously within his arms - to hug her. "I'll tell you every day then," giving her a small, rather anxious, smile. One she didn't see as she closed her eyes, not wanting the man to see the large effect his words had, but hugging him back regardless.

yes the answer and what yn wrote is my experience lmao

if a man doesn't treat you like this LEAVE HIM

suga is freaking out in his room over this interaction. hell yeah he was eavesdropping

hinata got her coffee too on his way there <3

if you want to know the real answer though it's speed and direction (the middle school answer at least)

this chapter was supposed to be funny but turned into feelings idk but I like it a lot more than the original plan

taglist under cut

@muyyie @wyrcan @eggyrocks @eclecticeggknightpsychic @nbcvs

@marzzn @naweirdo @yukii-1 @girlkissersco @yuminako @kunimix

@empress-pug-pug @cherrypieyourface @lvtilzs @punkhazardlaw @localgaytrainwreck

@crownj1min @sereniteav @madiexuberant @st4rdusttx @chizunata

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @muskratlove @mollyrolls @cryptictheseus

@theycallmenanamisgirl @jaeminsbuckethat @deluluforcarlos55 @bunninio @jeonsfizz

@causenessus

[seethesin]

peace and quiet

pairing: Villanelle x Assassin!F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: bet ya didn't see this coming 😏 truthfully, i've had this scenario on my mind for about a month now. i had to write this before i got through the rest of my drafts. im also a bottom!villanelle fan oops enjoy! gif credit.

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday evening was stuck in a Ford Fiesta with the world's most infuriating assassin, Villanelle. But here you both were, cramped and cranky as you wasted hours watching a man go through his nightly routine. Truthfully, you didn't know much about your target except his name, James Fitzgerald. His dossier was light and you suspected that further information wasn't yours to know.

As your handler would say: the less you knew, the better.

Silently, you watched as James moved from room to room in his home; starting in his bedroom, wandering into the kitchen, and finally, settling into the living room. Couldn't the Twelve have a vendetta against someone more interesting?

The blonde next to you must have thought the same thing. Immediately, she turned the radio on, flicking through the stations until she hummed in approval.

"Oh, I love Britney," she muses, beginning to sing along to the chorus of Womanizer as it pumps through the car's surround sound system.

You refrain from groaning.

"Villanelle, I need you to stop." Your voice is strained as your eyes are trained in front of you.

She's completely off-key but sings without a care in the world. Obviously, she's ignoring you and you exhale slowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Villanelle was good at what she did. Great even. But her hyperactive nature and flair for dramatics made you dread any time the two of you had to work together.

It wasn't just her obnoxious nature that made it so difficult for you to work with her. From the outlandish yet stylish outfits she donned to the way she held herself on and off the job, you thought she was stunning. But now, being in such close quarters only seemed to intensify those feelings. Your stomach did somersaults at each pesky thought, unable to get them out of your head quick enough. Entertaining those ideas was a distraction you couldn't afford.

Not in this line of work.

It's just one mission, you find yourself thinking, blinking your eyes open. I just need to get through one mission with her and then—

And then you will work with her again when the Twelve will it. You will still have these terribly ridiculous feelings that you will, once again, have to dissect like you are now. You grit your teeth and instead focus your boring gaze on James Fitzgerald's wrinkled forehead.

Wordlessly, you turn the radio knob towards you, muting the music so you can focus. Villanelle's contralto voice cuts through the silence like a blade and it takes her a few moments to realize what you've done.

"Hey! I was having fun!"

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingertips against the steering wheel.

"I wasn't."

Villanelle scoffs, feigning offense before leaning back. Aggressively, she adjusts her seat, allowing it to fully recline. She lays down, eyes glued to the car ceiling before crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

You were ready to further accentuate her childishness as she muttered about how you were a 'party pooper,' but paused. James was getting up and walking towards his front door. He was letting someone inside, holy shit! This needed to be documented.

In the dark, you felt for your phone that was supposed to be on the console. Miscalculating, you reached over farther than necessary and instead grabbed—

Villanelle gasped, body arching forward.

Oh.

Your fingers gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her shift dress. Blush immediately crawls over your cheeks and you become a stammering mess.

"Oh my god," you ramble, going to remove your hand. "I'm so sorry, Villanelle. I thought that—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Her hand is over yours and she shoves your palm in between her legs. The wet cotton of her underwear greets your fingers and the heat it emits makes you flatline.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

"I know how you look at me."

The statement throws you off kilter and you gape like a fish. Were you that obvious? The idea makes you nauseous; how the hell did Villanelle know your feelings better than you could even comprehend them?

"Stop thinking," she husks and her confidence seems to spread to you like wildfire.

James Fitzgerald and his unannounced guest are long forgotten as you shift in your seat, turning to face Villanelle. Your finger pads inquisitively drag up the length of her clothed slit. Her breathing grows heavier the closer you stroke towards her clit. You can make out her teeth digging into her lower lip and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares back at you.

She’s begging you to keep her entertained.

Cautiously, you pull your hand away. The loss of contact squeezes a whimper from her throat, but it dies as she watches you slip two fingers between your lips. You suck slowly, refusing to break eye contact with her before releasing them with a soft pop. You don’t miss the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Are you going to behave?” Villanelle nods like a bobblehead, practically rutting her body closer to where your hand used to be.

You chuckle. “Good girl.”

Wet fingers glide up her bare leg, meeting at the junction just below her thigh and cunt. Gently, your fingers worm underneath the waistband of her underwear. Painfully slow, you tug them down so that they pool at her knees. They are soaked and the sound of the blonde’s panting is amplified in the enclosed quiet of the car.

"Oh baby," you taunt, watching as she presses her thighs together. You want to swallow her whole.

"Is this all for me?"

"Yes," she sighs out instantaneously, parting her legs as your hand connects back to her cunt.

Your middle finger delicately slides through Villanelle's folds, exploring her velvety flesh. Tracing circles around her labia, you finally brush just underneath her clit. She jerks forward, desperately chasing your touch.

"Villanelle." Her name is a warning on your tongue, tutting gently as you watch her squirm. Your middle finger is fixed in the same position and her fingers curl around your wrist.

"Be nice," she pleads and no matter what your plan was initially, you couldn't deny her further. You nod and gently, your middle finger sinks inside her.

Villanelle tenses momentarily, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing. She squeezes your wrist, silently goading you to move. You comply, thrusting deeper inside of her.

Your finger moves leisurely at first, more so to savor the first-time feeling of her silky flesh enveloping you. Gradually, you pick up the pace. Her slick drools down the length of your finger and the obscene squelching makes you blush.

Thank god for the dark.

A stream of moans bubbles from Villanelle's throat as her fingernails dig into your wrist. Her other hand moves to her lips, her teeth sinking into the knuckle of her index finger to muffle herself. In response, your finger curls inside of her. She keens, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her hips forward.

"Don't do that," you chide, pumping against the spongy walls of her cunt. "I want everyone to hear how good I'm gonna fuck you."

Her gaze peeks through her lashes, blinking in surprise at the vulgarity of your statement. She's beautifully flushed and the image is seared into your mind. Your ring finger presses inside of her and she gasps, finally removing her hand from her mouth.

"Don't be mean," Villanelle mewls and you can't stop the smile tugging at your lips.

By now, the windows have fogged over in the car. The air between you has risen at least ten degrees higher and you match Villanelle's ragged panting, hyperfocused on every expression she makes. Her hair fans out like a golden halo, illuminating her furrowed brows and parted lips. You want to kiss her, but you instead settle for swiping your thumb across her clit.

Villanelle's chest heaves when you suddenly piston your fingers inside her. She sloppily pushes down to meet your thrusts while her head lolls back against the car seat. By the way her walls fluttered against your sheathed digits, you knew her orgasm was imminent.

James Fitzgerald's departure was also imminent.

Suddenly, the flash of headlights appears in your peripheral vision. A midsized sedan rushes past the front of your rental car. James is driving while his guest in question is in the passenger seat. Your eyes go wide; the memory of exactly why you and Villanelle were here to begin with hits you like a truck.

You withdraw your fingers from Villanelle's pussy and she cries out in both confusion and frustration. Scrambling, she pulls the seat back up so she can properly glower at you.

"What the fuck?" She yells, softening only slightly as she watches you suck your fingers clean before putting the car in drive.

"It's James," you start, pressing the defogger button near the bottom of the dashboard. "I'm gonna tail him."

"I was about to cum!"

You glance at Villanelle quickly as she complains, tossing a cocky smirk in her direction.

"I guess you'll just have to wait then."

[tyunslvr]

are you sure?

you just can’t seem to believe that your boyfriend likes you as much as you like him.

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader

feat. yeonjun, and chaewon and yunjin of le sserafim!

genre: fluff, slight angst(?)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, cursing (like one word lol)

w/c: 1.3k

a/n: uhhh it’s been a while since i've posted anything. this one has made it out of my (many) drafts. i hope you like it!!

something's missing.

beomgyu may be a little drunk right now, but he knew that something was not right - something fundamentally important was missing.

just what was it? he did his best to think, though the alcohol in his system made it difficult to focus; the booming bass of the music coming from the nearby speakers was definitely not making it any easier.

beomgyu's eyes wandered through the sea of people hazily, before coming to a sudden halt at the sight of a particular person. a feeling of relief washed over him, a smile involuntatrily forming on his face.

you. that's what was missing.

albeit the dim lighting, and his slightly blurred vision, beomgyu was certain of one thing: you were breath taking.

“damn, who’s that gorgeous girl over there?”

“beomgyu. that’s literally your girlfriend.”

"my girlfriend?" beomgyu gasped dramatically, placing his hands over his mouth in so-called shock.

yeonjun sighed, rolling his eyes. "here we go again" he muttered, watching as beomgyu's gaze followed you as you manoeuvred through crowds of people before joining your friends.

"how much have you drank already? i swear just an hour ago you were moping around because of some fight you had with y/n"

"i fought with her? i would never!" beomgyu slurred, his brows furrowing, trying to recall when he would've ever done such a thing with you.

"yeah, yeah. no more alcohol for you."

the last place you wanted to be at right now was yeonjun's party. you and beomgyu had been bickering more often lately; that boy was driving you crazy. the disagreements were never that serious, but you felt frustrated at how easily you'd give in to beomgyu. this time, you decided that you weren't going to let him win like always. in attempt to to do this, you had decided to avoid beomgyu for a while - not seeing his face would make things so much easier. your plan was going so well this week - until you were dragged to his bestfriend's party by your own friends.

"come on, y/n! stop looking all stressed out!" chaewon giggled, clearly tipsy, as she placed a cup in your hand.

you peered inside the cup, deciding against drinking the questionable murky liquid. "how can i not be stressed? i told you i don't want to see beomgyu right now" you sighed, placing the cup back down on the kitchen counter.

"i don't get why. you said you don't even remember what you argued about" yunjin mused.

"yeah, well..." you mumbled in response.

"you need to stop pushing beomgyu away, y/n. that boy is literally head over heels for you!" yunjin huffed exasperatedly as chaewon nodded in agreement.

as much as you didn't want to admit it, yunjin was right. in all honesty, you just wanted to take a break from your feelings for beomgyu; they were almost overwhelming these days. you couldn't help but doubt if he really liked you as much as your friends say; if he actually felt the same way about you as you did about him.

like, c'mon, the choi beomgyu was your boyfriend. practically everyone at college knew who he was. it was inevitable, really - with his good looks and charming personality, he was bound to be popular.

being his friend, you would've never of guessed that beomgyu felt anything for you. you could hardly believe when he clumsily asked you to be his girlfriend, blushing and stumbling on his own words. it was still hard to believe a month into the relationship, seeds of doubt planted in your mind by your own self: so many people like him. he could have anyone; someone prettier, someone smarter than me. in all truth, this was why you were avoiding him; taking silly little squabbles as a chance to run away from your insecurities.

"speak of the devil" chaewon whispered loudly, pulling at your arm. "he's coming this way right now!"

"and that's my cue to go find the bathroom-"

"what? c'mon, just talk to him-"

"you better not tell him where i'm going!'"

and with that, you started pushing through swarms of people, hoping that you were going towards the general direction of the bathroom, or any room you could hide for a bit in, really.

"y/n!"

shit. judging by the fact that you could actually hear him over the loud music and people's chatter, he had already caught up to you. screw him and his long legs.

this didn't deter you though; you kept pushing through people, opening the first door you came across-

-which just happened to be the door to the back garden.

"y/n-" beomgyu burst through the door just seconds after you, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

"i don't want to talk beomgyu" you stated as firmly as you could, not turning to look at him "come any closer and i will scale one of these fences."

you could almost hear him stifle a laugh before proceeding to clear his throat. "look, i'll admit that i'm a little drunk right now. but i'm sorry, for whatever it is i did to make you mad the other day"

"...i'm not even mad about that. i don't even remember what you did" you laughed bitterly - even you thought you sounded ridiculous.

"then tell me what's wrong?" beomgyu grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you so you were facing him. you looked up at him reluctantly, knowing the sight of him was going to melt away all your resolve.

and you were right. as soon as your eyes met his, you felt your breath catch in your throat. the way the moonlight cast a silver halo on his dark hair, the way it illuminated his features - you couldn't help but think he looked angelic. his furrowed brows, his soft pout as he looks at you with concern - he's so pretty it hurts.

"are...are you sure you like me?" you blurted out, regretting the words before they even left your mouth.

beomgyu blinked in confusion for a few seconds, before throwing his head back, laughter erupting from his throat.

"i'm being serious! out of all people, why me-"

"what do you mean, why me?" he stated, his tone indicating how incredulous he found your question to be.

"i mean, have you seen yourself?"

beomgyu's smile faltered. "i should be the one asking that" he mumbled, his eyes never leaving yours.

"i don't get it" you whispered back, feeling yourself recoil under his gaze.

"you can be so stupid sometimes, y/n" beomgyu murmured as he took a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. he bent his head lower, until his forhead was resting on yours, his hand placing yours on his chest.

"do you feel that?" he whispered, his warm breath fanning your face, increasing the blood flow to your aleady-blushing cheeks. silence enveloped the both of you as you stood there feeling his hammering heartbeat, your own increasing by the second.

"only you do this to me. you make me feel like my heart's literally going to jump out of my chest"

"...that could just be the alcohol" you whispered back, laughing weakly.

"no way. chasing after you and now standing out here in the freezing cold has been very sobering" he said, a grin forming on his face again.

"i-i'm gonna ask you about this tomorrow"

"sure" beomgyu chuckled, moving his forehead away from yours and cupping your face with his hands, gently tucking some loose strands of your hair behind your ears.

"and when you forget tomorrow, i'm gonna-" you were interrupted by beomgyu's soft lips briefly on yours, the shock of the kiss making your words dissipate in your mouth.

"sorry. you just looked so pretty" he whispered, moving his hands from your face and to your waist. "and ask me tomorrow, the day after, in a 100 years. my answer will be the same."

you threw your arms around his neck in response, melting into his embrace. “you win again, gyu” you mumbled, smiling into his neck as he wrapped his arms around you tighter.

[kingsonne-zedecks]

I wanted to talk about some Cradle stuff so I pulled this put of my drafts and polished it up a bit. This came out of my own musings as well as a conversation on reddit regarding what childhood and early sacred arts looks like for different people in the world.

We see a lot of different people with different types of paths but we don't know much about most of them or how children choose them. In some circumstances

For some Paths, it's obviously a question of tradition, while others are more utility, and more are products of ambition. But what does advancement look like when those things are absent?

As I organized my thoughts I ended up making some categories of what different upbringings with the sacred arts might look like.

The Traditional

This encompasses many of the Paths we see in Cradle. These are the well trodden and firmly established "Paths of the Clan". Here is your White Fox, your Grasping Sky, your Blackflame, your Stellar Spear. These are paths that the vast majority of the clan or family follow in unison.

Tradition and competition for resources weigh heavily on these paths. A path of light and dreams doesn't necessarily lend towards farming, but the Wei still overwhelmingly practice the White Fox. Every person on the path becomes a capable combatant under this method, and they might need to be.

Children start following this Path at Copper and follow it the rest of their lives.

The Lesser Clan

This is the path of clans like the Redflower, but also applies to smaller families as well. These paths bridge the gap between Tradition and Utility. The family path is not so heavily tied to the concept of honor or combat. Its a path that serves a purpose, and it's a purpose that you are born to. This is the path of "my father and his father before him." The path of "sixth generation farmer" and "my daughter will take over the family business." Whatever the parents do, the child can expect to do as well.

This path also starts at Copper.

The Great Clan

We see this in the Akura and the Arelius. These clans have resources and knowledge and their people follow a variety of Paths. There is likely an influence towards one type of path or another, purely due to there being more resources and knowledge regarding that type of madra.

Its hard to know how a path starts in these families—how much influence a parent takes over the path of the child. This is the path of options. A child here might delay starting their path until they have chosen the perfect one. A child might have the perfect path chosen for them and begin working towards it from a young age. A child might choose to develop their own path.

The age and level of advancement that a child is when they actually start on their Path could be highly variable, especially given the possibility of advancing through the lower realms via elixir rather than cycling.

The Mighty Sect

These are schools such as the Cloud Hammer or Jade Eyes. They have strength and resources and a specific Path that they teach, but they are not one family or clan. Prospective students are drawn from other families through a variety of processes. Its likely that some students' parents pay for them to learn from the sect, or else deal in favors to get their child admittance. Its likely that there is some sort of admission process in which children prove their worth to join the sect.

Its unclear regarding the age of admission for these schools. Perhaps they only take pure Coppers, or perhaps any artist below Jade or even Gold whose core can be converted to the path.

The Pathless

This is the path of Mu Enkai. Poor individuals with no resources or training that don't follow any real path. They harvest whatever aura is either most plentiful or most related to the work they are likely to be doing. Techniques are rough and not necessarily even frequently used. Remnant for advancement to Gold is likely a matter of opportunity more than anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of my ideas are only partially supported by direct text, and some of them are entirely the result of unsupported theory crafting and worldbuilding.

The Worker

These are people who know what they want to do, and choose a path that will get them there. Writers on Dream Paths, gardeners on Life paths, builders on Earth paths. These are the children that know that they want to be when they grow up and follow a path that helps them with that. Just like in real life, not many kids actually know what they want to do at the age of six and then happily stick with it.

The Ambivalent

This one is similar but different to the Pathless. Where a poor peasant might be denied the resources to advance beyond lowgold, there are probably a large number of people, particularly living in large cities, that just don't care. They are going to work jobs and live their lives in a way that the sacred arts don't really impact. They probably advance to lowgold like a child being pushed through high school. Maybe they select an aura type as a child based on their favorite color. Maybe they select a remnant based on the appeal of possible goldsigns. It doesn't really matter, they don't care, the sacred arts are merely an afterthought in their lives.

The Modern Middle Class

These are the Cradle Suburbanites. People that live in towns and cities big enough that they don't really have to worry about sacred arts battles for the most part. Their parents work at jobs and bring home scales and buy their children elixirs. The child advances based mostly on elixirs until they reach peak Jade, and are old enough to pick a remnant from the remnant store. Maybe they stop there, or maybe they advance, but they are old enough to choose for themselves at that point.

The Educated

This is the advanced form of Suburbanite. These kids go to modern style schools for the sacred arts. The school provides elixirs and training. The students are taught principles of madra and technique fundamentals. They have homework and quizzes and tests with practicals. When they get older they start to specialize and begin working more directly with the types of madra they want. The school library has information that the children can use to craft their own paths, or manuals from common paths for the children to choose from. The school provides a selection of remnants for the children to advance with and high level classes to help integrate remnants with the goal of advancement to Highgold at minimum before graduation.

The Village

These are children that grow up in small poor villages that don't have many resources or much knowledge and that aren't actively being oppressed by more advanced artists. There's not really a big push for advancement or any competition over it. Children might talk with different relatives, neighbors, and family friends before choosing a direction that sounds interesting. While not a Path persay, they do get taught little lessons on techniques and receive advice from the adults around them.

The Tutored

Inspired by Oz's childhood, these children are taught the fundamentals of the sacred arts by tutors. This can apply to a wide range of economic statuses, from the children of Lords with private tutors, down to village or city children whose parents pay the cost demanded by tutors of their status. Education is a blend of custom directed learning for the child and a direct passing of the knowledge of the tutor.

[byanyan]

alright, i finally took the time to move all the memes i had hoarded in my drafts to my storage sideblog and deleted a few smaller, less significant/less plot-driven threads as well, bringing my total drafts down from ~70 to 55. i might... delete some more stuff yet if i'm still finding myself overwhelmed, but... we're gonna give it some time and see

[visiosatanae]

Branded

Ficlet below the cut, please mind the warnings 🔞❗

This involves exactly what the picture implies, so please do not read any further if you aren't a fan of graphic depictions of torture and violence. Needless to say, MDNI

The room was cold when you finally came to, the sweat beading up on your skin now freezing. Your head hurt, a throbbing ache still pounding behind your eyes. Your body was upright, arms raised above your head but you found you couldn't move. Panic began its course as you realized you were completely devoid of clothing, vulnerable to the draft of this makeshift dungeon. You couldn't remember how you got here, only that the Cardinal had requested your presence urgently before-

The Cardinal…

Shakily you craned your head to look around the room. There were no windows and the walls and floor were stone, suggesting you were underground. The only light came from a few wall sconces and the fireplace crackling away in the corner with what looked like a rack of fire pokers next to it. In front of you was a table filled with surgical instruments and knives. You struggled with your binds, the metal around your wrists and ankles groaning against the frame you were attached to. 

"Ah, it seems the puttana has awoken." A chill ran up your spine, freezing at the sound of the Cardinal's voice from behind you. "Did you get your beauty sleep, cara?" 

"Why did you take me?" Your voice is hoarse. "I didn't do anything to you, Cardinal." You hear him stand from wherever he was sitting, slowly and methodically making his way towards you. 

"Our Dark Lord may be the father of all lies, Sorella, but that doesn't mean you are allowed to lie to me." He tuts, finally coming into view. He wore his red cassock, his usual biretta nowhere to be seen. 

You try to wrack your brain for any clue as to what he's talking about, but you can think of nothing. "Your Eminence, I don't know-"

You felt his hand around your face, the soft leather of his gloves digging into your cheeks and stopping you from speaking. His heterochromatic eyes pierced yours, as if trying to discern something behind them. After a moment he released you, your jaw aching. 

"I guess you really don't understand." He mused to himself, making his way towards the fireplace. You watched him warily. Rumors around the ministry warned of the Cardinal having a foul temper and unpredictable nature. And it seemed you were inadvertently on the receiving end of his ire. "Tell me, how do you feel about Brother Sebastian?" 

A pang of fear shot through you at the name. "He's a friend. We have a class together and we talk sometimes." You tried to keep your voice from shaking. "Please don't hurt him, he hasn't done anything." 

"He touched what is mine," the Cardinal snapped, voice firm and cold. He then bent to pick up something from the fire; another poker you must have missed. But as he turned around you could see it wasn't just an implement for stoking the fire. The end was flat and red hot, two backwards C's glowing in curling metal script. 

"As a boy, I had a habit of coveting things that were mine, or what I wanted to be mine." You felt yourself pale, eyes widening as he stepped closer. He inspected its fiery glow, ensuring the temperature was even throughout. "I learned that the only way to keep the other children away from my things was to mark it as such. Pen was much too easy to rub or scratch off, so I began to carve instead." You couldn't help but eye the table of knives and scalpels. He looked thoughtful as he reminisced. "But in the end, I found that branding was the quickest and most effective method. Even to this day." His eyes flicked to yours and your heart stopped under his gaze. 

He came closer still and your brain finally put the pieces together, your head shaking and your breath quickening. “Please, please no, please no…” Your pleas trailed off as he held the brand close to you. You could feel the heat emanating off of it even though it was still inches away. He reveled in the look of absolute terror on your face. “You’re insane,” you spat, your fear reducing your ability to speak rationally. 

“Tell you what, cara,” he ignores your words, “I’ll let you pick the next one, hm?”

“The next?” You felt lightheaded. 

“Si,” he nodded. “I have quite the collection. You didn’t expect just one, did you?” You wanted to throw up as he brought the red hot metal lower, hovering below your waist. “But the first choice is mine, as are you.”

A scream echoed within the walls of the nearly barren room, your throat beginning to burn but not as much as your skin. The Cardinal pressed the brand firmly to your thigh, holding it in place with a gloved hand to ensure the mark was as perfect as possible. It felt like forever before the iron was removed, the smell of burning flesh churning your stomach. Even at the awkward angle you could see you were branded as his, the letters “CC” marking your thigh forever in a blistering burn. 

The Cardinal eyed his handiwork, seeming satisfied with how it turned out. You shrieked as the leather of his gloves brushed your tender skin, his fingers caressing what he had done. Hot tears ran down your face with a sob, the pain already beginning to break you. With a smile he patted your face. 

“We are not done yet, dolcezza,” he said, walking back towards the rack of branding irons. 

“Please.” Your whisper still echoed in the room. “Please have mercy, Your Eminence.” 

“Sweet Sorella,” he cooed, picking out another design. “Mercy is for those who worship God. And as you well know, He does not step foot here…” 

[imgondeletedis]

IT IS THE

ೃ⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

’ SHORT N’ SWEET ‚

ERA

this pic is my editing lolz

・❥・

brina’s 6th studio album ~short n’ sweet~ is out, and honestly i love it so much so far, and it is motivating me to write one-shots (let's pray if i wrote any i would post them bec i have so many drafts including 2 chapters of “i love you it's ruining my life” that i am hesitating to post bec well looks like i am not myself’s biggest fan when it comes to writing (though i do write ALOT it is my only passion lol)

but this album gave me so much ideas to so many characters from different universes so i have decided to do something i never did and I am going to accept requests about certain characters inspired by the songs on the album (you choose the song, and choose from the characters i write for)

・❥・

✯ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ♡ my current muses ♡ :

╰┈➤ benedict bridgerton form the bridgerton universe

╰┈➤ james potter from the marauders universe

╰┈➤ sirius black from the marauders universe

・❥・

: ̗̀➛ some notes ✧.* :

those three characters i write them “ x reader” (i do love some ‘already-existing ships’ like wolfstar and jily SO MUCH, but i am afraid i can never do specifically those two ships justice)

the one-shots inspired by this album will be mostly until now ‘modern au’ but i’ll see what i can do ♡

requests are open my loves, but just know i take my time with my writings i don't like writing something fast, and unedited so if you sent me something and i didn't respond to it just know that i am taking my time so it can live up to your expectations, no i am not ignoring you (i can never ignore any of you♡)

important note: .I DO NOT WRITE SMUT. i am not comfortable with writing it,, i can however allude to it since it would be MORE than required with some of these songs ahaha

when requesting please choose the song, with which character and SPECIFY the ending you want (as in happy/fluffy ending, angsty, alluding to smut, etc) bec if you don't i will just go with whatever the song says/alludes to, and if the song doesn't specify either i will probably make the ending angsty bec that's my thing hehehe

i didn't try to write for another characters/ships from the two universes mentioned above, so also i don't know how would it feel because tbh no one inspires me like these three hehe (maybe + remus lupin/moony) , i can try and write for others though or existing ships but no promises.

i can try and write for some characters in the MCU but it depends honestly (i did write something once for ‘an-already-existing’ ship but it was a scrap) so also no promises

・❥・

So yeah that’s all babes,, happy ’ short n' sweet ‘ day to those who celebrate🙏,, and whether you don't or not, hope you have a SWEET day💓🫶. (sorry if that post is not so short, hopefully you find it sweet though🫢)

・❥・

[sincerely-sofie]

Seeing as you have finished writing the script for your AU thingy, I wanna know, how?

Like, were you motivated the whole time? Or was it a on and off writing type thing?

i'm trying to write but I don't know if I have the motivation...

How did you keep the motivation if so?

Oh man. I have so much to say about writing and creativity that I could make an entire series of posts talking about the subject, but I'll try to keep things orderly and brief.

Disclaimer: I should let you know that I have never finished a writing project before recently finishing my TPiaG AU. Keep that in mind when reading the advice I offer— the tips I give have only been put into work in my own life over the course of the last couple of months, but they’ve proven very effective in my experience!

Sofie Creativity Tips Episode 1, go!!!

Was I motivated the whole time I was writing TPiaG / How did I stay motivated?

Absolutely not. If I hadn’t provided myself a detailed chapter-by-chapter outline for TPiaG before starting the writing process, I would have given up thanks to a mix of writer’s block and absent motivation. Motivation is a fickle muse and prone to ditching me for months on end, so I’ve adapted by trying not to rely on it, but also by creating new motivation rather than clinging to past motivation. I create motivation for myself in two ways: removing friction when writing and being my own fandom.

Removing friction is pretty simple— I create very detailed chapter outlines that remove any fear of writer’s block, set up my devices in a way to make it easy to access my manuscripts and notes, download premade writing playlists that have Pomodoro session break timers built into them, and more. Anything that makes the writing process easier to get into and enjoy doing, I make sure to incorporate into my life.

Being my own fandom is less intuitive, but a thousand times more rewarding in terms of motivation. I make memes of my characters. I write self-indulgent snippets on the side. I make AUs of my own work. I make playlists and save audio clips that suit the characters. I draw comics exploring concepts that might not get into the manuscript itself but that I want to make content for regardless. Basically, I dive in deep into the story, characters, and world, and try to do so with the enthusiasm that I give other people’s projects.

(That part is extra fun, because if I have a headcanon, it automatically becomes canon to whatever AU or original project I’m working on. I have all the power in the world when working like this, and it’s very fun.)

What changed and made it so I finished my first ever written project?

This isn’t exactly what was asked, but because I have eschewed motivation as the main driving force in my writing process, I figured I’d give another insight into how TPiaG went against the pattern of half-started and swiftly abandoned projects that came before it and actually got finished. Late into October, I adopted a new method of producing first drafts. Previously, I would spend weeks polishing the same chapter and would only move on to the next chapter once the current one was perfect. My new method is the complete opposite. I’ve started calling it Writing BFF:

Write bad

Write fast

Write fun

First up, write bad. The point of this is not to waste your time writing prettily during your first draft. Don’t bother agonizing over how to reword that one sentence to be more elegant when it does the job well enough to get its point across. Don’t go off on a 30-minute research tangent in the middle of a writing session because you want to fact-check that one detail and make sure it’s perfectly accurate when you could just put a placeholder detail in brackets and CTRL+F search and plug in something accurate later on. Don’t write pretty, write bad. And be okay with it. You can’t edit an empty page, so fill the page with as much garbage as possible so that you can turn it into gold later on.

Next, write fast. This is only effective when paired with writing bad. Don’t pause, don’t hesitate, don’t deliberate. Write as much as you can and do it as fast as you can. This idea is best illustrated by Chris Fox’s book 5,000 Words Per Hour, where he talks about increasing your WPM (words per minute) and how it makes everything about your writing better. The person who creates a beautiful first draft once every three years is doing okay, but the person who cranks out a complete manuscript every three months learns leagues more about writing than the first person does by the end of three years. The second person has practiced outlining, drafting, editing, publishing, and more with every manuscript completed. The faster you write, the better you get, because practice makes perfect and quantity begets quality.

Finally, write fun. I write what I enjoy, and if I’m not enjoying it, I pivot the project so that I enjoy it again. I like writing deeply personal stories, so pretty much everything I write is heavily based on my life and experiences— TPiaG included. Grovyle’s portrayal is deeply influenced by my experience being an elder sibling who has been a bad example of self-talk, and cleaned up my act because my younger sister started echoing how I spoke to myself. Dusknoir’s portrayal is informed by my experiences with being the therapist / mom friend in different social circles as well as attending actual formal therapy. Twig is the character that my experiences have the greatest influence on in her portrayal, and I joke about her being a self-insert, but ultimately all of the characters are self-inserts to some extent. I also enjoy low-stakes and slow slice-of-life stories that are driven by character growth. If I ever stop having fun with a project, I inject more of myself and my preferences into my work to get it back into my favor.

TL;DR / Writing advice lightning round

Write as badly as possible as quickly as possible, and have fun as you do it. Momentum yields motivation and stagnancy yields doubt. Editing comes only after the first draft is complete. Be your own fandom and your project’s biggest fan. Give yourself direction and ward against writer’s block by making detailed chapter-by-chapter outlines. Make the writing process as easy and enjoyable as possible. Motivation is a lie and if you chase after it instead of making your own, you’ll be writing on hard mode for the rest of your life. Reject perfectionism, embrace flawesomeness.

If I didn’t answer your question right, let me know! I’ll do my best to correct it.