#i know not everyone’s a good writer i know not everyone has a grasp on language.

[newfeeling77]

ive fantasized about a teaching career often simply bc i get so sexually horny when talking about research. like its insane how many ppl dont know how to do basic research and find facts that are actually true. its my favorite part of college im a little disappointed i finished all my english n soft science courses already

[miguelhugger2099]

Just a silly little request👉👈

Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭

Just One Touch

a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy. excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3 Art: mar_mar0u on instagram ! Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(

It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together. Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight. “Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable. “No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him. “Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!” Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.

You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.

Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.

“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits.  “Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.

You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.

“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.

“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.

“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.

He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.

You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.

“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.

“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.

You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.

He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.

His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.

Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left. You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly. He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass. You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth. He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch. Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.

So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap. You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing. You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat. “Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.

His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist. Oh, he’s in heaven.

[taylor-titmouse]

When a story has a kink you like, what writing flaws does it take for you to find the portrayal of it unerotic? Is there anything writers should keep in mind while maintaining eroticism, or is that so specific-reader-dependent that it's futile?

everyone's least favorite answer: "it depends". when you get into the specifics of eroticism, what makes one thing erotic or unerotic depends entirely on the context it exists in. let's use bdsm as an example, because most people grasp the basics of it.

you have a dom, a sub, and (if you're responsible) some pre-negotiated rules determining how they both should behave. simple enough.

a good author who wants to include bdsm in their work will take into consideration the way the characters involved are likely to communicate, but also the cultural context in which they exist. two men in regency england do not know what a safeword is, traffic lights aren't a thing, and they may not want to have a difficult conversation spelling out what they want, because they're men in england in a period before therapy. they will talk around it, or come up with something in the moment that suits the need. a real example from kj charles' a seditious affair, which i consider the best use of bdsm in a historical romance: the dom commands the sub to hold onto the bed rail while he fucks him, and if he lets go, he stops. or another example, these characters don't usually refer to each other by name. referring to the top by his name makes him stop. these are things that naturally make sense based on their relationship, and would make sense for two men in their circumstances and point in history. they do have some conversations about it, but only after they've opened up to each other enough that they'd have a real conversation about it at all, and now it's a vehicle to show the growth of their relationship.

a weaker writer who wants to include bdsm in their work might include the rules for safe bdsm without thinking about their context. another real example, which i won't name, is a romantasy between a big gruff laborer and the twinky wizard he works for. they've been antagonizing each other, and it all comes to a head in the stables, and the laborer is finally going to give it to the wizard... when he stops to establish a safeword for spanking him.

folks, i do not believe a curmudgeonly old laborer in a feudal fantasy world understands a safeword. i do not need him to understand safewords, and i don't need that conversation to happen at all. i am ready to see the wizard get spanked, the wizard is horny to get spanked. we are all on the same page. but the author has pulled the brakes for the sake of a conversation they think is necessary, but truly isn't. if your goal is to show that he cares underneath the spanking, show that during the aftercare, show it in how he's considerate of how hard he hits, or where he hits, or have him stop if the wizard says 'stop'. like a normal person would. you only need a safeword if 'stop' is not actually 'stop', and if this is your first time having sex with this person, and you care, you are going to stop if they say stop. and if the characters aren't even going to USE the safe word you make them establish, what are we accomplishing? if this element of the story never comes back, and only exists in this scene, why is it there?

i guess this is a long way around to saying eroticism is intrinsic to context and character, and if your eroticism feels like you layered it on top of the characters, rather than built it from their behavior, you're not doing it right.

[kosmosguk]

Lineage (M) | Special Chapter: How It Began

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be. But many years before the events of Lineage's main story takes place, there was once only the love of a beloved goddess and a damned demon.

Warnings:  HEAVY yandere themes, death, gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language

A/N: Surprise, everyone! It's been, what, 4 years since I finished Lineage and 3 years since I stopped writing on this blog. I've been through a lot of ups and downs in the meantime (to underplay it), but I'm now in a pretty good spot. I've thought about writing this for years and there's probably at least 10 incomplete versions of this on my old laptop, but writer's slump was a huge barrier. It wasn't until a conversation with a roommate who had complained that a fic she liked was never fully fully complete that I thought about trying again, from scratch, to complete this part for Lineage. Lineage will always be my baby, and on a reread of it to prepare to write this chapter, the me of the past did do better than expected (probably better than the me of today). I don't know if any of my original readers are still here from the days when I was active on this blog, but even if it's just one, I hope I brought this story alive just a little longer. Will I write the epilogue though (which also has 10+ incomplete drafts)? We'll see :) Hopefully it won't take another 4 years!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Special Chapter |

A beautiful clearing stretched on underneath the heat of a sun that always remained warm. It was green and lush, but void of any budding blooms. There were bits of dried flowers that showed that there might have been flowers once, which had blossomed as quick back then as rain drops fell from the sky. This clearing was eternal, and it could only be changed by the touch of a being blessed by the divine or damned by the evil.

A man, cloaked in black, bent down into the clearing. There was only one more bloom now that still remained, a reminder of a time that seemed distant and far. It was hard to pick out from the shadows that spread from his feet, but he restrained the shadows until the yellow flower could tentatively peek out through the green.

It was time now. He could bring her back. She would fill this clearing with flowers again like she did before, and she would laugh as he clumsily wove together a crown from them.

He plucked the flower out of the grass and pressed it against his lips tenderly. It shriveled and dried up, leaving a colorless husk. He let it flutter out of his grasp and looked up at the sun for the first time in his existence.

"I will bring you back," he promised then. His voice sounded like he had not spoken in many years. He pulled out his sword and pierced it into the grass, watching the green shrivel into gray.

In the glint of his sword, there was a reflection of a young maiden, her fists kneading against a ball of dough. When she moved slightly, nudging the hair off of her shoulders, a hint of red was seen on her skin.

You were born in a field of flowers, blooming beautifully underneath a sky lit with gold. The daughter of the God of Life and the Goddess of Creation, you were beloved by all beings who relied on the earth to live. You, who had lived under the protection of all who was Good, were woefully ignorant of the true darkness of those who lived in the shadows of Evil.

But then on a peaceful day, not unlike the day you had been born, you realized then how easy it was for Evil to creep into the realm of the Good.

“Wake up, my goddess!”

You flinched, peeking your eyes open to the Fairy of Tulips pulling the hem of your tunic with her small fists. “I am sleeping, Little Tulip. Only official orders will wake me.”

The sun was warm against your skin, and the clarity of your mind was still soft from the blurry haze of sleep. Though deities had little need for sleep, your habit of naps was known far and wide through the Creators’ realm. You tried to close your eyes again, nestling back into the bed of grass, and brush her off your clothes, but she clung onto your palm, chomping on your thumb. You yelped, now wide awake.

She squinted down at you, fluttering up off your palm, and placed her hands on her hips, the sunrise tulip petals adorning her body swaying in her frenzy. “The flowers have been murmuring that there’s evil nearby! We have to leave. Now!”

You laughed. Evil? Evil had not existed in this realm for many eons, after the War ended with victory of the Good. But when the little fairy’s expression didn’t show a hint of amusement and the muttering of the flowers around you remained, you frowned and pushed yourself up to stand.

“If you are certain of evil, then I will bring myself to check it out. It would not do any of us good if I left the situation unchecked, as we are by the border of the realm.” You stepped forward, flowers blooming underfoot to soften your path. The little fairy tugged at your clothes, hoping to stop you, but you kept walking further away from the clearing you had been lazing in towards the forest by it. Instead of the welcoming lush green that usually greeted you, the forest was coated in darkness.  

When the muttering of the flowers pitched in volume, you knew you were getting close. You placed your hands out, ready to call for nature’s aid if the situation called for it. However, instead of some vile creature looming over you with venom oozing from its pores, a young man laid in the midst of the darkness. A closer look prompted a gasp to leave your lips. He was beautiful, more beautiful than any deity you had ever seen, and if you had not been entrenched in shadows, you could have been fooled to believe him holy. But the oozing black blood from the wound on his side and his eyes, which flickered open to glower at you, were a startling red.

He scooted back, his free hand falling to the blade by him.

“I will not hurt you!” you spoke before you could process the thought, mesmerized by the sight of his eyes. You showed him your hands. Your eyes dropped to the curve of his lips, which if it had not been pulled in a sneer would have been lush and have softened his features. “I am a healer and a grower, not a killer.”

His expression decreased in hostility. You hesitatingly asked: “Is it alright if I come close? You can keep your sword by you, and if I do anything unpleasant, I will understand if you slay me but...” You teetered for a moment. “But if you kill me, I cannot ensure your safety and that would be bad for you and me. Me because I would be dead and you because you would also be dead and...”

You were interrupted by a laugh. Your eyes flickered back to him. He looked startled at the sound he had made, and you smiled brightly in response. You took a step closer. When he did not tense, you dropped to your knees and raised your palm over his side. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and both of you sat in an entranced silence, staring at the other. His eyes dropped to your lips, though there was still a guarded look to him, and you held your breath.

“Do you want me to put my hand down?”

“What?” you sputtered. Oh. Heat burned at your cheeks as you noticed the playful tug of his lips. You nodded quickly. He must have thought you were amusing. You focused back on healing, and you would leave and tell Little Tulip to not say a word. You vowed that you would never see this brute, who enjoyed your embarrassment, again.

When he dropped his hand, you called your healing power, but the unpleasant quirk of your lips increased the time it took to fully heal his wound. When the flesh closed over the wound, you leapt back to your feet. You felt foolish, very unlike the noble and dignified deity you were supposed to be.

“I am going now. I will not tell a soul about you. You do not need to thank me, but I will tell you that you must not wander into this realm again. I guarantee that the next deity you meet will not be as forgiving as me and...”

Your lips pinched together when you felt his touch around your wrist. He pulled your hand down, and lifted his head to kiss the inside of your palm. You flinched at the press of his lips on your skin. He looked up at you, mistrust no longer in his eyes. “You are my savior. May I not be able to see you anymore?”

You dropped your gaze from his. If he heeded your words and you no longer saw him again, would the emptiness in you at the thought grow more and more?

“Only here,” your voice was but above a whisper. “If I see your shadows in the woods, I will come find you. But you must not come find me.”

He was silent for a second. “You are as cruel as you are kind, my goddess.”

He still had not let go of your hand and though his touch was cold, you felt fire licking up where his fingers made contact with your skin. You pulled your hand back like he had scalded you and spun on your heel, flowers having barely enough time to bloom underneath your bare feet with the quickness that you fled.

When you left the woods, your feet scratched up for the first time in your existence and your cheeks red, you could only force yourself to squeeze out a sentence at the quivering little fairy: “There was no evil.”

Your encounters with him continued, in secret and away from prying eyes. You talked about your visits to the human world: the songs you had heard and how you wished you could have danced and the loaves of bread you spotted cooling on the tables. You even talked about how your duties burdened you, though you were made to fulfill them, and how you felt like you were only able to handle them out of love for your humans. He talked about the books he had picked up in the human world, how he had found them meager and naïve at first and then interesting, and the little lake of lava he had grown up by and skipped rocks in. Though he spoke very little, when he did, you were captured by him.

And with the increase of encounters, your feelings of love, which you had reserved for only the creations that had been blessed by the hands of the Creators, grew. You let him hold you close to his chest, and when you laid your head on his flesh, you swore you could almost hear a heart beat quicker and quicker.

On your seventh encounter, when you had brought a basket of flowers into the woods to weave into crowns, you had placed one on his head. When he reached out into your basket and pulled out a handful of flowers, you watched him clumsily weave the flowers together and place the lopsided crown on your head. How could this man, as tender and clumsy as he was, be evil?

When he looked dejected at the sight of the crown limply hanging onto your head, you laughed and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. You had seen your lovely humans do this to express their adoration. And it was accurate to the moment: you adored him, to the point where you could ignore where his origins had laid root in.

Immediately, his hands reached up around your waist and pressed you close until you were on his lap. You gasped against his lips, and his tongue was in your mouth, delving into its depths. You burned underneath his exploration, your hands clenching onto his clothes into fists. Oh, you had never known pleasure like this, so unlike the simpleminded happiness you felt watching the trees hum in the wind and your humans create art. This pleasure was different: it blazed hotly, burning down trees and creating destruction in its path.

When the two of you were separated, your eyes blurred in a haze, he brushed his finger over the plumpness of your bottom lip, soaked in the mixture of saliva. His eyes were filled with anguish, but for what, you did not know. “My name is Yoongi.”

You let out a startled gasp at this. Oh. Oh no. You knew this name. You pushed away from him and onto your feet, flinging an arm out to point at him. “You are the Demon God. You...!”  

He was on his feet now, his hands reaching out to grab onto you. But you were inconsolable, banging your fists on his chest. Fire burned before your gaze, glimpses of your beloved humans hopelessly shielding their children from horrible monsters that would tear them apart and consume their remains. You knew those screams. You could hear them even now.

“You are the one to harm my beloved humans! I have seen your creations rise up, full of evil and malice. I have seen them destroy and terrorize and kill-!”

He held your hands to his chest, pressing your fists against where his heart would have been had he been human. The fight drained out of you, as you laid limply in his embrace, tears wetting the fabric of his clothes. His voice was ragged as he spoke. “I am full of evil, my goddess. I was full of evil. I admit, I who had been wandering in darkness did not know good. But you, who could have slain me, showed me good when you saved me. I can be good for you, as long as you do not leave me. You hold my pitiful existence in your hands.”

He reached up a hand to touch the flower crown. The crown disintegrated underneath his touch, leaving bits of ashes. “You see, whatever I touch, I destroy. But with you, I can control this damned ability of mine. I can see reason.” He swallowed heavily. “I can see you. And when I see you, I see all that is good. I can see the flowers that you love to smell and out of all of them, you love lilies the most. I can see that you love humans, though they pillage and lie and kill. I can see why all beings seek the warmth of the day and fear the coldness of night.”

You looked up at him. You could only see the redness of his eyes then. But beneath it, there was a being who you were certain loved you. And you loved him, as much as you loved your humans. He, who was evil, was nothing more than a creation led astray.

“I am sorry,” you finally whispered, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. “I...You will have to give me time.”

When you pushed yourself away from him, this time for good, you walked away.

When he saw that you had left without even a look back at him, he looked up as a large crow flew down. When it landed, it transformed into that of a handsome man with narrow eyes and bronzed skin and cheeks that would have revealed a dimple had he been a smiler.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi spoke, “Keep an eye on her for me. I will leave to deal with the issues of the Demon Realm.”

Namjoon nodded his head and hummed in agreement. “I will. A favor for a friend.”

Yoongi laughed. “Your associations with humans have made you more like them. A demon has no need for friends. In our existence, there are those who lead, and those who follow.”

Namjoon turned his head to look at where the little goddess had been. “And how would you describe her: a leader or a follower?”

Yoongi’s hands clenched briefly, like he could still feel her warmth, and his eyes were still pinned to where she had been. “She is holy. Holier than my damned existence. And yet I still want to monopolize her and make her look only at me.”

“So then?” Namjoon asked again. “How would you categorize her?”

Yoongi remained silent for a moment. Then, he vanished, leaving Namjoon alone in the forest. Namjoon thought to himself then: what about this little goddess captured the attention of a demon that had been damned from the beginning?

Namjoon kept a careful eye on the goddess. Though on the surface, it was due to orders from his liege, he could not help the insatiable curiosity about her. She was kind—though kindness was not much familiar to a demon like him. She certainly loved those humans, as foolish and terrible they were. And when she watched a wedding, there was a certain sadness lingering in her eyes that captured him.

And so, as Yoongi remained away from her side, Namjoon found himself fixated on this presence.

He had been following her in a crow form when he was caught by the pudgy hands of some kid who was little more than the neighborhood bully. The kid had thrown him onto the ground and menacingly reached down to start plucking at his feathers. He had thought about growing back into a fierce snake, who could rear up to bite the human that dared to grab him and leave him on the verge of death, when a voice cried out.

“Leave that bird alone!”

The child bully looked up, prepared to viciously attack the person who dared to interrupt his fun time, but swallowed his words at the sight of the glowering adult. The little goddess had taken on the form of a muscular man, with biceps that bulged like the size of a boulder, and the kid had been too flustered to come up with a retort. Instead, the kid dropped Namjoon’s bird form and sped off.

When the muscular man shifted back into the form of the little goddess, Namjoon watched as you ran up to him and lifted him up to inspect him. “Oh, I am so glad you were not harmed! I love those humans, but I do not particularly enjoy it when they decide to hurt other innocent beings.” You squinted down at him with analytical eyes. Namjoon gulped, fearing that you would have caught onto the true self that lingered underneath the disguise. “Do you think I was too mean by taking on that scary form, right?”

Namjoon shook his head, forgetting that birds should not have understood the human language. But you laughed like this was to be expected, and Namjoon felt silly: of course, animals like birds would understand the words of this goddess. “Good! Well, I will let you be now, little guy. Try to be more careful, so you will not get caught again. You are a handsome bird, with very beautiful feathers. There are many humans who would catch you just to capture your feathers.”

Namjoon puffed up in pleasure. Of course, he was beautiful. He was a high-ranking demon. This crow form was nothing for him. If anything, he was the most handsome crow out of all the crows that occupied the human realm. He squinted his eyes. What was he even thinking?

In his agitation, he fluttered his wings and flapped away, ignoring the tinkling sound of laughter that she made when he almost rammed into a tree branch.

When Yoongi returned and had asked Namjoon on how his goddess had fared without seeing him, Namjoon could not help the zip of pleasure that ran through him when he had answered that she had been more than fine, and Yoongi had glowered in response.

Namjoon then understood why Yoongi had been unable to answer him when he had asked which category the little goddess had occupied. She was neither a leader nor a follower. Her existence itself was a source of contentment, of happiness that destroyed the boundary between who was meant to control and who was meant to be controlled.

There were many creations that were beautiful. And there were few creations that were both beautiful and kind. But beautiful and kind creations never lived long.

You loved most the most beautiful and kind of the humans: a young girl who had lived as a daughter of a baron. You had chanced upon her on one of your visits, watching her help the poor though her family itself had little means, and when she had begged for help from a deity to help save her from her plight, you had been listening to her pleas that she not be sold to the vicious king that ruled over her kingdom.

You did something that you reserved for only your most favorite humans: you appeared in front of her. When you had offered her a way to avoid the favor of the king—a bell that would turn her into a bird that could fly out of the king’s grasp—she had laid on the ground and kissed your feet in joy.

But word of the goddess that appeared with the golden bell spread far and wide. And when you entered the human realm, wanting to see how that human girl was faring, you were soon captured by the king’s army. When you were lead to the throne room, your hands wrapped in chains, you were distraught at the sight of your most favorite human pointing at you.

“This is the goddess!” she declared. She turned to the king, who looked like a walking corpse with sallow skin and hollow cheeks underneath the gold and silk he wore. “Your majesty, I implore you to remember our deal. For her capture, you will let go of my parents and give us enough gold to revitalize our land and tend to our people.”

Oh, though she had betrayed you so, you felt a rush of pride. Betrayal for a good reason, you could tolerate, for you loved her so. But the king had merely raised his hand, and a knight rushed forward with a fell swoop of his sword. When her head, bloody, fell in front of you, you let out a ragged cry.

The king knelt down in front of you, a blade in his hand. You flinched as he wielded the knife...and sliced his palm open. He reached up to cup your cheek, smearing his blood on your flesh. “I heard tears from a goddess could cure all wounds.”

He lifted his palm back and watched with awe as the wound on his palm closed up. His eyes glowed with a sick greed. “Then it must be true. That the blood of a goddess can cure all ailment. You know, I had this knife brought to me for this very moment when I first heard the legends. It is made of a terrible evil capable of killing good. You should know that I was granted this knife from the Demon God himself after I sacrificed many peasants.”

He raised the knife and sliced your palm. You felt pain for the first time in your existence, but even more hurtful, you felt anguish bite at what might have been your heart. Gold ichor spilled out of your wound, and he hastily bent down to drink your blood. Color returned to his cheeks at once. You watched in disgust and horror as he laughed with glee. He sobered up, looking down at you. His eyes glittered with the remnants of the sickness that had imprisoned him so.

“Then it must be true. That the sacrifice of a goddess can fulfill any wish, a wish that would last for all of time. Your death can bring anyone back to life. For with your death, life will follow. I will be able to see my wife then.” He lifted the knife, and you were silent as he brought it down in a fell swoop. The blade pierced the flesh above your clavicle, but not a sound of pain left your lips. You pinched them together, even as your body collapsed on the cold floor.

You thought of Yoongi then. You wanted to let him know that you forgave him, for his deceit and for how he had tricked your beloved humans. But you were no longer capable of doing so. You were bleeding out on this floor, just like any other mortal that you had loved. You hoped that the Creators would not hurt the humans who had harmed you. There were many you had loved. And you knew that the Creators loved them even more so.

You saw a flash of red in front of your blurry gaze. A voice called your name, begging. You had never heard a voice that despaired like this voice did. You wondered, for a moment, why it sounded like Yoongi. Something wet splashed onto your skin, the sound of a crackle and a pop following. Ah, the tears of a demon, unlike the tears of a god, caused pain. But you did not feel any pain, not now. Ah, it was Yoongi.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you saw good in him, that even when you were not around he could still be good. But your time, which had seemed to stretch on infinitely before, was now finite, limited by a few seconds left.

You whispered, gasping out short little breaths between the words. “I...forgive...all.”

“Wake...!” you heard.

And then you could speak no longer. And you could hear no longer.

The end of the realms was imminent. Underneath the grief of the ruler of the demon realm, fires roared and overtook earth. Soon, once earth was taken and destroyed, rage would spread and bring all that existed down to the burning afterworld.

The God of Life could not stand by and witness the end of all that he had created. When he had found himself in front of the Demon God, he had been prepared for the sword that the Demon God had pointed at his chest.

“You...! She is your daughter, and you wish me to spare the lives of the humans who...!” The Demon God had screamed in anguish. He laughed then, the sound ironic and cruel. "I know you beings are both cruel and kind. For if she had been less kind, she would have been less cruel, choosing her love of humans over...over our love."

The God of Life loved all he created very much. And he had loved his daughter, who had sprung forth from the love he had with his wife, very much as well. But as the Giver of Life, he was unable to upset the balance of the world he had created, not when the balance was so fragile. He could not bring his daughter back. Not without an equal trade. Not without a deal.

“More than you would ever know in your damned existence, I love her very much." Loved. "Yet, I too am unable to go against the tide of Fate." In that moment, for the first time in his existence that had always been steady and predictable, the God of Life relented.

"However, there is a chance for her to return.” He started. “But you must adhere to what I will tell you. So that you will not destroy the world, I will tell you of how you may be granted mercy from Fate. But there is little in this world that is certain."

The Demon God was silent now, his face stony and emotionless. But there was something dangerous taking root in his eyes. A sickness that could not be cured: Hope.

And Hope was the most dangerous thing, for as much as it could create, it could also destroy. Hope would be the reason why humanity would continue. And hope would be the reason why the king, who in his madness had killed a deity, did not die. And why many, many years later, a princess that once had been the most loved existence in all of the realms would be born into this kingdom in the absence of love.

For hope could destroy lineage, as much as it tried to preserve it.

A/N: As always, leave a comment! Though I'm not active like I used to be, I do check messages that come into my inbox and do see when y'all (if anyone is still here haha) comment. If anything, another motivator that had me come back to this blog just for this story was someone who messaged me two years ago. @theedungeonwitch, though I was in a not so great place then and wasn't able to respond to you, I'm leaving my flowers here for you now. No tag list, since I'm not sure who's still here and still willing to read this chapter :)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the heist

the wistful wyvern, chapter five

a/n: HEIST TIME, BABYYYY!!

summary: eventually, after you thought the palace couldn’t unfold any further, you finally came upon the chamber that you sought.

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, ball, heist, kissing, violence, injuries, cliffhanger

word count: 3535

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With city walls high enough to shade the outer rim of the town, Ingorn, the capital of the southern kingdom, was notoriously operated under tight supervision. One could not simply wander in or out of the city, a key factor that had managed to worry you to the point that your stomach was still in knots long after you and Bucky had successfully blended in among everyone else and sneaked your way inside through the main gate. 

The central castle towered behind you as you now found yourself tugged away in the shadows of one of the small alleys that made up the vibrant and bustling market. The stick in your grasp dragged through the dirt as you explained with the aid of your spontaneous battle map. 

“…and then we slip out,” you moved the little pebbles you’d found to help the visualisation, “right under their noses,” Bucky’s eyes then flickered up from the map at your feet to flash you his slightly apprehensive expression, “it’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” you tilted your head, “and if not, you know, the food on the inside isn’t as bad as people think.”

Tossing the stick, you then dragged your boot over the drawing to erase it.

“Alright,” you exhaled, “step one,” and cast your glance out the dim alleyway to the seamster across the street, “we gotta look the part in order to blend in.”

Seizing a goblet of wine as a waiter passed, “here,” you handed it off to Bucky beside you, who was visibly fighting every instinct in himself to not undo the tight top buttons of the black ensemble he now wore, “don’t actually drink it.” 

As you both scanned the ballroom meticulously, you slinked your arm in his to blend in with all of the other couples at the party.

“So,” you murmured above the music, “we know the king has a copy of the key, as well as his head of security, Commander Abbot.”

“Which are both too risqué,” Bucky chimed in as his gaze checked in the opposite direction to you, “so we’ll have to go with the last option.”

“Crown Prince Callum,” you elaborated, only seeing drunken gambling and dancing duos for as far as your eye would take you.

“Mhm,” he hummed, then swiftly nudged your side lightly as he spotted the aforementioned royal, “purple dress shirt, to your left,” he subtly pointed him out for you, “the keys are on his belt.” 

After slyly sneaking a peek at the royal standing further down, mid-conversation with a monocle-wearing gentleman, you let out a heavy sigh and tugged the neckline of your blue gown down further, “gods, why couldn’t you have been his type?” 

But when you turned to grab the wine goblet out of Bucky’s grasp, he only bit down a laugh and winked, “good luck.”

Making your pace brisk, you neared the prince just as he began to turn. Clutching the full glass of burgundy wine in your hand, you purposely collided with the noble and spilt the drink all over his purple tunic. 

“Oh gods,” you faked a gasp and stared down at the stain, “your highness! Please forgive me, I didn’t see where I was going, I–… I’m so sorry.” 

The immediate anger that began to blossom on Prince Callum’s face withered and faded when his gaze did a double take as you bashfully batted your eyelashes at him. 

As you swiftly grabbed a napkin from the nearby buffet table to hand off to him, he simply breathed, “ah, it’s–…” as his stare was too busy dropping to your cleavage to notice how yours dipped to the keys dangling from his belt, “it’s fine.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I mean, you can barely even notice the stain,” he glanced down at the faint mark, “so that’s lucky.” 

“I’m still so sorry, I really should have been looking where I was going.” 

After he let his stare linger even longer, the crown prince then blinked, “forgive me if this is too forward of me, but would you care for a dance?”

“A dance?” you faked a timid gasp, though the corners of your lips lifted as this was exactly the proximity you needed in order to steal the keys, “with you?”

“Yes,” he then leaned in closer to smugly whisper in your ear, “if you’re so sorry, then dance with me,” before floating back enough for his emerald eyes to capture yours. 

Bending your knees slightly, you offered him a small curtsy and said, “it would be an honour, your grace.”

After he offered you his palm and you swiftly slid yours into it, he led you to the middle of the dancefloor. Snaking his grasp around your waist, he drew you in a little too close for what you were comfortable with, but exactly what you needed to get the job done. 

“So, my lady,” he uttered as the pair of you began to sway to the music, “I don’t believe we’ve formally been acquainted.”

“Oh, I’m aware of who you are, your highness.” 

“But I don’t know who you are,” he briefly twirled you an arm’s length away from him before whirling you back to him, “we haven’t met before. I’d surely remember a beauty such as you.”

“Lady Delphine of Cællimbe, your grace.” 

“Ah,” his brows lifted with recognition, “so you must be one of Arthur’s daughters?”

“I am,” you lied. 

“Forgive me, I’ve always had a hard time keeping track of all of his daughters,” a skill you knew even some members of that house in Cællimbe didn’t have, “but perhaps now’s the time I finally learn.”

As you let your eyes drift down to the keys dangling from his hip once more, you then uttered, “you know what I think you deserve,” you let your hand softly, yet suggestively, glide from his shoulder and down his frame, “after I so rudely spilt my drink on you?”

With a palm firm on your lower back, he dipped you down to the rhythm of the song. Staring back at you with bated breath, “what?” you knew he was hooked. 

“A kiss,” you managed to whisper just before he crashed his lips against your own. 

Running your palm further down his body, your fingers grazed the delicate loop the keys hung from just as he began to lift you up from the dip and press your frame closer against his. Letting your other hand wander, you tried to make your touch come off as just the same kind of attention he was giving you. You tried not to gag when his caress curved around your bottom and stole a swift squeeze. But just before he finally parted from the repulsive kiss, you snatched the small bundle away and hid it down your cleavage. 

“Wow…” he breathed, eyes fluttering between each of yours, “that was–…” he speechlessly murmured as the song came to an end and everyone around you began to bow and curtsy to their partners, though the prince didn’t move an inch. 

“Thank you for the dance, your highness,” you pulled away and offered him a small smile. 

And as you turned to walk away, his voice found your ears once more as you weaved through the crowd, “will you grant me another one later? Perhaps in a more private quarters?”

Casting a glance back over your shoulder, you playfully answered, “how about you find me at midnight and get the answer then?” before you ducked out the open glass doors onto the broad balcony that stretched so wide it connected many of the chambers. 

Rounding the corner, you wedged yourself into a little nook and momentarily let yourself melt against the stone wall, finally granting yourself a chance to shutter over what you’d just endured. 

“Did you get it?” your eyes swiftly fluttered back open as Bucky’s low timbre washed over you, haven evidently kept a close eye and followed you out here. 

“Of course, I got it,” you fished the keys out from between your boobs and handed them to him. As he slid them into his pocket, you swiftly leaned away from the wall to snatch up a drink from the tray balancing servant that hastily passed by. In an attempt at washing out the taste of the prince’s possessive kiss, you downed the sweet liquor as quickly as you could manage, “urgh,” you groaned, then noticed the amused expression plastered on Bucky’s features and grumbled before he could begin to tease you, “oh, shut up,” you watched him bite down on his grin, “let’s just go.”

Heading back inside, the two of you swiftly slipped down hallways and sneaked by a bunch of boozed-up guests, before your swift steps echoed softly on the staircases as you made your way deeper down into the gilded palace. 

When you reached the basement, you quietly made your way down the long corridors. The torches hung sporadically along the walls were the only source of light, making the sudden passages that occasionally crossed the one you ventured down nearly come as a shock. 

Suddenly, a pair of footsteps, not your own nor Bucky’s, found your ears. 

And just as a shadow began to appear from around the corner, Bucky’s arm quickly wrapped around you as he dragged you into what he’d assumed was a chamber, but turned out to be a very tight broom closet.

The sound of the treads slowed as the door shut behind you. With Bucky’s burly body now firmly pressed up against yours, you scarcely breathed at all as you listened intently to the approaching footsteps. As torch light began to seep in from the crack beneath the door, your eyes found each other’s in the darkness. 

Though as the handle began to twist, your partner reacted quickly and did the very last thing you thought he’d do in order to not blow your cover. 

Grabbing a hold of your face, Bucky swiftly pulled you in and captured your lips just as the door swung open. 

“Oi! You can’t be down here,” the guard bellowed and Bucky’s lips faded from yours just as swiftly as they had appeared, making the whole decoy feel like it had just been a dream.

Being quick to respond, Bucky glanced at the man and said, “sorry, just thought we could find somewhere private down here,” but your eyes were still too spellbound to tear away from his visage even as the ruse faded. 

“Sir, just take it back upstairs,” he held the door and ushered you back out, “there are guest rooms a servant can point out for you if things get very dire,” before the guard then began to escort you back to a staircase leading up. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said, his palm still scorching through the fabric of your dress on your waist as you conquered the lowest of the steps, leaning enough into the guard’s command for him to turn and go back to his post. 

You stayed at the foot of the stairs a moment longer before the coast was clear once more.

Eventually, after you thought the palace couldn’t unfold any further, you finally came upon the chamber that you sought.

Around the corner from a short and curving stairway, there stood the entryway to where the massive vault lied. Before the solid door stood two guards, a layout you silently explained to your partner with a few hand motions. 

With your spines pressed against the wall at the very bottom of the staircase, you wordlessly shared your plan before giving it a go.

Purposely stumbling down the last step, you glanced up at the guards and pretended to be incredibly intoxicated, “oh, hey,” you took a few wobbly steps towards them. 

“Madam,” one of them perked up, “you’re not allowed to be down here.”

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” you slurred, “I think I might have taken a wrong turn,” before you reached out and leaned against the decorative vase standing tall at the edge of the chamber. As it began to wobble violently, one of the soldiers instinctively reacted and reached out to catch it before it smashed, “wow! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” with their attention turned to you, you tried to twist their view away from the stairs where Bucky waited to sneak out from, “that last drink is just really getting to me, I think.” 

Doubling over the vase, you pretended to heave. As one stepped even further away from his post to near you, the other one pipped up, “madam, you really should return to the party–, uh!” before Bucky appeared and his solid fist knocked him clean out. 

Swiftly, you wrapped your limbs around the guard close to you, nearly climbing him like a monkey, as you slipped your arm around his throat and squeezed.  

“Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep…” you murmured through your laboured breathes as the soldier slowly lost consciousness and tumbled to the floor, taking you down with him. 

Offering you a hand, Bucky helped you back up onto your feet. As he conjured the keys, your eyes fell upon the dark hellstone that made up the sturdy vault door. The intricate lock in the centre of the arched entrance wasn’t difficult to spot in the slightest as its opulence was on par with the rest of the palace’s decor. 

When the corresponding key twisted and the vault door swung open with a heavy creak, your arm swiftly shot out to hold Bucky back before his boot could cross the threshold. 

“Stop!” you nudged for him to glance down and spot the tripwire he nearly triggered, “this place is probably rigged with tons of traps…” 

Carefully, you stepped over the wire, each one of your slow footfalls came accompanied by an anxious breath. Like a shadow, Bucky meticulously placed his feet exactly where yours had been. 

Between the hoard of glimmering gold and sparkling gems, dazzling armour and secretive scrolls, there below a shiny shield lied a small chest, already cracked open to reveal the treasure within. 

“There!” Bucky pointed for you to spot it as well. Safely tucked away in the narrow box were five coarsely textured eggs, all the size of honeydew melons. Crouching down before it, Bucky then closed the lid and seized it safely under his arm. Turning to you, he flashed you a bright smile, “we did it.”

But his victorious grin didn’t last long as his boot then shifted and stepped on what turned out to not just be another tile on the cool floor, but a pressure plate that clicked down from just a fraction of his weight. 

From a cluster of small holes on the opposite wall, a dozen poisoned darts soared out, but thankfully, Bucky’s reflexes were sharper than his perception, as he swiftly tackled you both to the floor.

Treasures clanged around you from the crash as you blinked up and saw the small bolts fly above your heads. 

“Are you okay?” one of his palms found your cheek as he hovered above you, eyes frantically scanning your features, “did you get–”

“I’m fine,” you swiftly stated before the approaching of rushed footsteps suddenly found your ears. Evidently, the clatter had been enough to alert your presence, “Buck,” you panted as the alarm hadn’t yet seeped into his soul, “we gotta move.”

After you scrambled to your feet and exited the vault, the warden at your side cast a glance your way before you began to run. 

“You smuggled that dagger in with you, right?”

“Yep,” you breathed, as you bent down and grasped the fabrics of your skirt, giving it a stubborn tug till it ripped a slit all the way up to the top of your thigh in order to grant you better mobility, but retroactively also revealing the hidden blade that was strapped to your leg, “let’s hope we won’t have to use it though.” 

Running back the way you came, you managed to hide from the first wave of guards that came rushing down towards the vault, but when you rounded a corner and came upon three soldiers, everyone froze up for but a moment. 

“Oh, no…” Bucky muttered before he raised his voice and tried, “uh, gentlemen, this isn’t what it looks like,” before he gave up and threw a punch at one of them. 

Unsheathing your dagger, you tossed it into the thigh of one of the ones storming Bucky. With the chest still clutched under his arm, Bucky snatched up the weapon with a flourish and used it to his advantage. 

The last in the trio rushed at you and swiftly wrestled you to the ground till you found yourself in a position you weren’t sure how you’d get out of. But then, your eyes flickered to the long leather bracelet ever glued around your wrist. Swiftly, you unfurled the improvised weapon and tangled it underneath the guard’s thick neck and tightened it so fiercely that the boulder of a man nearly turned blue in the face before he passed out. 

As you pushed his heavy body off of you, you watched as the last of Bucky’s guys tumbled to the ground, both of them bleeding, though nothing fatal. 

Getting to your feet, your gaze found your fellow warden's while you hastily wrapped the cord back around your wrist before your feet began to move once more. 

Eventually, after you’d slipped out of the basement and raced higher up into the palace, you found yourself cornered with nowhere left to run. Every corridor you ran down had guards on the other end of it. 

Ducking into a chamber that had a canopy bed so elegant that it nearly kissed the tall ceilings, you and Bucky worked together to push a polished wooden wardrobe against the door to block it off. 

Your stare stayed glued to the only exit as your chest heaved with every breath, though Bucky’s didn’t linger as long, instead flickering to the windows right behind you. 

“I’ve got an idea,” he uttered before unlatching the window and pushing it open. 

Stepping closer, your gaze mimicked his and spotted the roofline below. 

“Seriously?” you glared at him as heavy thumps began to echo at the barricaded door, “how far down is that?” 

“Just don’t think about it,” he grabbed your hand and helped you up onto the windowsill, “it’s not like we got that many options,” his fingers laced with yours as he came to join you, “on three,” you stared down at the shingles below in horror, “one, two, three!” 

And just as the cupboard scraped across the floor, the guards successfully barging the door down, the two of you jumped. Getting the wind thoroughly knocked out of you, the pair of you crashed onto the roof in a bruising tumble. 

Thankfully, though your body throbbed from the fall, nothing seemed broken as you helped each other to your feet and began to sprint across the rooftops and jump over gaps between buildings towards the pending city walls. 

And with one last leap, you reached the parapet. Helping him down the wall first, Bucky then promised to catch you as you hesitated the steep climb. 

You felt like sitting ducks as you sprinted across the open fields surrounding the city. Lungs burning from how long you’d been running, you saw the main gate roll up and let out a hoard of soldiers, all on horseback. 

The lights in a few of the watchtowers flickered as you passed them, and before you knew it, arrows began to fly, only narrowly missing your heads. 

A plan then stuck your partner as he pushed the chest into your arms and urged you to keep running in the same direction while he curved off in a reckless attempt at leading the enemies away. 

Though you knew it was too dangerous, he darted off before you could stop him, only glancing back to tell you to meet him behind the small cluster of pine trees that shot up further down the meadow. 

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes as you soon heaved to regain your breath and the pine needles pricked your spine. Whipping your head around, Bucky was nowhere within your sight, even as your breathing began to grow steady. 

And just as paralysing thoughts of his demise settled within your mind, his silhouette suddenly appeared from around a tall shrub.

Unable to stop yourself, you ran into each other’s arms. 

“That was so stupid,” you sniffled against his shoulder as you clung onto him like you never had before. 

Seizing your face, he gently tilted it back enough for him to flash you a cocky smirk, “worked though,” as he wiped your cheeks dry.

Blinking up into his eyes, the moonlight nearly made them sparkle as fiercely as the palm-sized gemstones you’d spotted in the vault. 

Then, just as victory washed over the both of you, the soft smile that warmed Bucky’s features faulted as a breathless gasp of pain tumbled out of him. 

Still faintly vibrating from its journey, an arrow suddenly jutted out of his left shoulder. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[wand3rlustm3]

PLSSSS INNOCENT VIRGIN READER X VIRGIN TXT 😭😭😭😭

Innocent!Virgin Reader x Virgin TXT (Hyung Line) Pt. 1

Warning: Fem!Reader, Smut, Dry Humping, Cunnilingus (not proofread :3)

Writer’s note: Note: OMG MY FIRST ASK AHHHH!! I had to pull out my keyboard for this ask actually, thank you so much anon <3. I will be writing this in two parts because it is taking me longer than expected :( Thank you for your patience Anon, I apologize already because I’m not loving how it turned out. Part two will be coming soon :3

Soobin -

His long veiny hands wrapped around the PlayStation controller as he tapped the buttons with such speed. You were trying your best to keep up but then all of a sudden, there was a distraction. You couldn’t really understand how the both of you ended up like this, but somehow while playing a video game, the both of you started getting a little too competitive and you ended up under him as he gently pushed you down on the sofa so you would lose the game. As always, he was playing dirty to get what he wants. You were dressed in your pajamas which usually consisted of a skimpy tank top with short sleep shorts. You and Soobin had never really seen each other in a different light until now, and Soobin couldn’t control himself anymore because your shorts were riding up your thighs, and your top was falling further down your chest. You could see a tent growing in Soobin’s sweatpants and you turn red.

“S- S— Soobin…please…move.” You speak in a hushed tone as if someone else were to hear you, but you know that no one else is home, as everyone else had a schedule that day to attend. You pushed against his chest gently as if to ask him to do the exact opposite of your words.

“What if I tell you that I don’t want to?” Soobin says. In that moment, all of the pent up frustration Soobin has from years and years of not having someone take care of his needs caused him to break his usual facade. He couldn’t lie to himself, he found you extremely sexy and it was almost as if he didn’t act on it, he would regret it for his whole life. After all, you looked so small caged under him like this, how could he not get a boner?

Soobin spent no time in crashing his lips harshly upon yours as his fingers grasped your chin and held you exactly where he wanted you, his tongue brushed against your bottom lip as it entered your mouth and licked around. Soobin just couldn’t have enough of you, you were so pure and innocent that you simply took what he gave you. It wasn’t like he had much experience either, but god, was he a good kisser. You gently put your hands on his face as if you would break him, and Soobin started to dry hump as you continued kissing. Your shorts didn’t do very well in hiding how badly you needed him either, creating a wet spot on the shorts that he could very easily see. Soobin slipped off your shorts as he continued to leave open mouthed kisses on the expanse of your writhing body.

“Mmmmh— ahhh…Soobin please…do something, anything!” All that left your lips from then on was cries of help so he could do something. As Soobin slid off your shorts and your panties, he almost came his pants at the sight of your pussy glistening underneath the dim lights of the tv. You were actually dripping onto his couch, and he couldn’t help but put a finger in.

“Fuck….you’re dripping baby”. Said Soobin under his breath. He thrusted his finger in and out of you and all you could do was let out pathetic moans as he had you fully at his mercy. Soobin grinds himself into the couch beneath the both of you, and lets out deep moans. Soobin inserts a second finger as he notices how you ask for more by gripping at his hands that held onto your breast, the strap of your tank top hanging off your shoulder as you forget how bare you really are at this moment.

“Soo— Soobin nnghhh!! I’m cumming—“ you loudly moan out as you arch your back into him.

“Cum for me please, mmmh— cum with me please—“ Soobin says between pants and moans.

The both of you end up cumming at the same time, but there’s a mess in Soobin’s pants that you are going to clean up,

A question which keeps lingering in your mind— how will you fit it in your mouth?

Yeonjun —

You REALLY did not want to be at this party, you knew that it wasn’t a place for a girl like you. But— your friends really wanted to take you to this really nice party that was at the house of one of your mutual friends. So, you decided to put on one of your bodycon dresses. The truth is that you didn’t think you’d be talking to the hottest guy at the party when you chose an empty corner to sit in. Yeonjun seemed to find you rather interesting, when you addressed him with that innocence in your eyes as you asked him what his name was. Yeonjun was not a fuckboy by any means, but he could easily be mistaken as one simply because of the way he carried himself. Not in a negative manner, but you simply couldn’t believe that he hadn’t chosen to sleep with any of the numerous girls that throw themselves onto him.

“Is this your first time at a party?” Yeonjun asked.

“Yes…is it that obvious?” You respond with another question as you have a flustered look on your face, feeling awkward that he could tell you were out of place.

“No! It’s just that I don’t go to parties very often either— By the way, my favorite song’s playing, wanna dance?” He asked excitedly as he cuts himself off, offering you his hand to lift you off of the couch.

You choose to respond with a simple nod as you reluctantly look at him, strangely he seems trustworthy enough for you to go dance with him. Yeonjun gives you a warm smile in return, and you figure that before he cut himself off, he was trying to say that his friends also forced him to go with them. Yeonjun is undeniably good as a dancer, and he gently placed his hands onto your hips as if his hands were magnetically attracted to them. The both of your hips swayed to the beat of the upbeat music, and your arms found their way around his neck. Yeonjun was feeling flustered on the inside and if you would look closer you could tell that his ears were turning red. However, you were too busy focusing on the way you were getting way too hot because of the way his fingers rested just inches above your ass. You most definitely didn’t have the courage to do it, so Yeonjun knew he had to get over it and just pull you into a kiss. His hand gently came up to your cheek and pulled you closer as you both finally stopped swaying to the music. His pouty lips brushed against yours as if to ask if it was okay, as you look at him with a gentle look of approval, he dives in and pulls you unbelievably close to him. The both of your hips flushed together, as you could feel how hard he was.

“Yeonjun…I’m— I’ve never done this before… I-“ You start stuttering and saying a bunch of things as you get nervous but Yeonjun intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls you into another kiss.

“It’ll be okay, I haven’t either, but we can figure it out. Don’t you dare worry your pretty little head about anything.” Yeonjun spoke as he led you to one of the guest rooms upstairs, and you don’t know if what you’re doing right now is right or wrong, but for the first time in your life you feel like you don’t care.

It took Yeonjun briefly 5 seconds to make you sit on the bed as he took his shirt off, and did the same for your dress. Yeonjun gently laid you onto the bed as he made quick work of it as he hiked it up to your waist, until he decided you were too beautiful for him to not see you fully nude. Suddenly you felt the air of the central A/C hit your nipples as they perked up through your unlined bralette, and you weren’t the only one who noticed because Yeonjun immediately unclasped it and threw it onto the floor, you almost forgot to breathe as his plush lips wrapped around your nipple. You felt like you would cum from just that much, so it was naturally even more shocking for you when he brushed his fingers against your core for the first time.

Your panties pooled at your ankles as he trailed them down your legs, and he took them off as you mewled for him to move a little faster. His breath hit your core and he smirked and let out a cocky chuckle as he saw you writhing like a desperate slut, the innocent look in your eyes replaced with a haze that only he could inflict on you. He dives into your cunt and uses his fingers to stimulate your clit, and your heart practically beats out of your chest.

“Yeonjun… I’m— I’m cumming….” You moaned out as the music blared outside your room, carelessly being loud since no one can hear you two.

“Give it to me baby, come on, I’ve got you.” Yeonjun spoke between moans.

As you came all over his face, his chin and pouty lips glistened under the light, he’s surprised he didn’t cum as he was eating you out because your pussy was the most divine thing that had come in touch with his lips.

“Y/n, you think you can handle me? I might not be able to keep control..” He breathily spoke—the truth is you didn’t know if you could but you feverishly nodded because you felt such need for him to be inside…

Beomgyu -

You have had a crush on your friend Beomgyu for a long time, but the only thing that had stopped you from confessing was your lack of romantic experience, and your fear of rejection. As you and Beomgyu walked home from class, you figured that it would rain, but not this soon—So, this morning when you decided to wear one of your favorite white blouses with a short skirt, you had messed up. Because now the rain soaked your white shirt and it was sticking to your bra, accentuating your breasts. Not only that, but your flimsy pleated skirt had stuck to your ass and Beomgyu was so obviously gawking at you that you felt flustered. You had really not thought this through, but you were flushed from how hot you felt despite being drenched in the cold rain.

“Beomgyu, my home’s only a few minutes away, let’s run there and get some shelter.” You suggested, the only reason you are not considering Beomgyu’s home because you would feel even— worse to be at his house in this condition.

“Y- yeah y/n, whatever you want” Beomgyu says as he scratches his nape in pretense of looking away from your body.

But you quickly run into two problems as you get home and have to change out of your clothes, because your blouse gets stuck on your wet body and does not come off. So naturally you ask Beomgyu to help you change out of it, who has nothing but a towel covering his waist since you had nothing to offer for a change of clothes.

“Y/n…are you sure you’re okay with me walking in?” Beomgyu hesitantly asks.

“I— I’m stuck Gyu…please come in” You barely speak out because of how embarrassing the situation is for you at this moment. This is definitely not what you had in mind when you both were walking home today.

Beomgyu walks in and has to stop his jaw from dropping as you stand there with wet hair dripping onto your floor with your skirt on the floor, your shirt is the only item of clothing that you have on along with your underwear. Meanwhile, you can’t even maintain eye contact with Beomgyu as he’s practically naked and looks so tempting with his hair sticking to his beautifully sculpted face. His towel was hanging low on his waist and you could see how well defined his body was. So when he came closer to you, reaching his hands out towards the end of your blouse, he made sure to run his strangely warm hands over your bare skin as he bunched the shirt up to your bra.

“Gyu….please—don’t tease me..” You spoke in a hushed tone, breathlessly.

“Hmm?” The corner of his lip curling up as he finally manages to get the shirt over your bra, with his hands resting on your boobs as he caresses them gently. He finally grabs your blouse and helps you get it over your arms and head, but most importantly—out of the way. Beomgyu grips your hips and pulls you into him roughly, and you almost let out a yelp. But you can’t seem to say anything because his bare skin is against yours and you have no idea how to function. You can finally feel how hard he is through your panties and the towel he has on his waist. When he sits on the bed and pulls you on top of him, you almost moan and Beomgyu can feel the heat radiating off of you despite you both being cold just a few minutes ago.

He starts leaving open mouthed kisses as his hands mess with the clasp of your bra, and his lips immediately drop to your nipples as he takes your bra off. His hot breath and tongue feel a bit too good on your breasts as his hands grope your ass and hips.

“Gyuuu—It’s too much…!” You moan and grind down onto him as if something came over you.

Beomgyu is practically thrusting into you with the towel covering his lap as you soak a wet spot into your panties. He places his head between the area of your shoulder and neck, and pants as if he’s trying to regain his sanity.

“Fuck—y/n mmmh, you’re too beautiful. My pretty girl…all mine. Gonna cum for me..?” Beomgyu rasped out as he thrusted his hips (almost) into you, and sped up as he was closer and closer to both of your climaxes.

“Gyuuu—nghhh please!! I’m cumming!” You mewled as you arched your back and practically bounced on his lap. As you both came, Beomgyu silenced his moans with a mouthful of your beautiful tits, and you wondered how pretty he would sound with his cock buried deep inside you.

[purpleph4se]

look upon me

shang tsung x reader

warnings | smut, fem/afab! reader, dom! shang tsung, degradation, hes a meanie, but also praise, fingering, orgasm control

a/n | hi...everyone...sorry for my disappearance. so i decided to watch some mk1 gameplays not suspecting i would fall for his cunty ass. but ykw shang tsung basically ended my writers block/laziness. as always please enjoy this deprived mess

shang tsung has had a long day. he failed again at selling his “cures”. he needed to feel in control of something, anything. and how lucky he was to have you so pliant under his fingers.

your legs were spread wide open over shang tsungs thighs; he lazily leaned against the headboard with you in his lap—your warm back against his chest. you moaned in tandem with the repetitive motion of shang tsung’s thick fingers penetrating you knuckle deep and grazing that sensitive spot deep inside you as he pulled them out. purposely bringing you right to edge and stopping. you looked so pretty when you cried.

"f-fuck!" you sobbed, your hands shakily grasping the sheets beneath you. a familiar heat pooled just below your belly. you threw your head back onto shang tsung’s shoulder, and he smirked at the sight of your tears pooling on your eyes.

"such language! is it too much for you? poor thing..” shang tsung whispered into your ear, humming as you cried, he knew you were oversensitive, but he didn’t care.

"mhm, feels good doesn’t it? i know, i knoww, precious girl.” he cooed at you, only two fingers deep inside you. the mess between your pretty thighs made him throb, his length pressing into your back as he held you tightly so you couldn't squirm away from it. no, he wanted you to feel the way his fingers stroked the inside of your tight pussy, focusing on that little spot that made you keen.

"m-mhm! s’-too muchh!" you babbled out. the pads of his fingers pressed into your walls at new angles, making you squirm at the delectable sensations. your chest heaved, and sweat beads began forming at your hairline. 

shang tsung pulled his fingers out without warning (again). your back arched off him as you let out a needy whine. he ran his thumb over his slick-coated fingers, staring at his handy work. his obvious effect on you had him bordering on giving in and fucking you right then and there. but he felt like teasing you, for fun.

shang tsung brought his fingers to your lips. thankfully you were not so far gone that his gesture was lost on you. you eagerly took them into your mouth, expertly swirling your tongue around them. shang tsung watched intently as you cleaned your arousal off of his fingers. he let out an airy chuckle.

with a quiet gasp, you released his thick digits. a thin string of spit bridged from your plumped lips to the tips of his fingers, and drool dripped down your chin. “good pet.” he said as he admired his wet fingers.

dropping his now well-coated hand back down between your thighs, he drew large, slow circles over your clit. you sob, sensitive at his sudden touch.

he leaned in close, ghosting kitten licks over your lips before pulling you in— your tongues quickly intertwined, swallowing your pretty moans as he pushed his fingers deep into your needy cunt. your eyes fluttered shut. 

the room filled with sticky, wet noises as shang tsung set a relentless pace, prying you open on his fingers alone— a white ring formed at his knuckles due to his calculated movements. you struggled to focus on the hot, lustful kisses he pressed into your lips. shang tsung noted your distraction and pulled away, deciding to have mercy on your short-circuiting mind.

"m—mm, i’ve—i’ve been so g-good! can i—” you sob, he hooks his head over your shoulder too look right between your legs. "look at you! such a messy girl." he scoffed when he saw how his hand and your thighs were glistening from your wetness.

"ahn—shang tsung please-" incoherent wanton noises sat at the tip of your tongue. you reflexively bucked your hips into shang tsungs hand before he snaked his other one around your waist, holding you in place. his lips tickled the shell of your ear.

"hm? please what?" you could barely process his soft, honeyed words. you took a shuddered breath. "i can’t possibly know what you want until you tell me…" he purred.

"h-hah—slow down! m’ gonna," you whimpered, trying to move your hips away from his quick fingers, the swirling on your cunt drove you mad. "silly girl, didn’t i teach you to ask nicely? go on and show me how badly you need it." shang tsung cooed into your ear.

just as quickly as his fingers worked you to your high, they stop, making you gasp through choked cries and devastated pleas.

"hah, look at you," he chuckles out. "go on then…show me." a wicked smile crawls onto his graceful features, satisfied in seeing you right on precipice of euphoria. he’s mean—cruel and unrelenting and just the slightest bit twisted as he kisses your cheek with a laugh.

on the brink of desperation. you needed him. needed him so desperately that tears spilled down your cheeks. “please, pl-please i-i need you—need you to make me cum. please—!” 

his voice caressed you like honey, you trembled helplessly, reduced to nerve endings. “see? was that so difficult? pathetic girl…” 

"thank you! th-thank youu—“ the concentrated pressure at your core threatened to burst shang tsung knew what you needed. the room filled with sticky, wet noises as shang tsung set a relentless pace, prying you open on his fingers alone—a white ring formed at his knuckles due to his calculated movements.

"cum like the little whore you are, darling. cum for me ."

“i’m-m'g'nnaah-“ you took a sharp breath. shang tsung encouraging words coaxed you over the edge. your legs shook, threatening to close around his hand (save for his legs prying you open). your warm arousal gushed around his fingers, coating them as your orgasm overtook you. shang tsung chuckled, his fingers still swirling around your clit to prolonge your orgasm as you writhed and struggled against the arm around your waist.

"that’s it. such a good slut for me…“ shang tsung urged you further. cooing you down from your orgasm. you felt safe to be yourself wrapped within his strong arms. a slew of questionable praises fell from his mouth: "did so well," "beautiful, perfect" "my sweet pathetic girl."

"all mine." 

[disaster-j]

What really pisses me off is people insisting the break-up doesn't make sense as its own thing when it's so clearly in-character for both of them

Buck has been in a serious relationship with a man for six months but hasn't said the word bisexual. We only know that's His Label bc Oliver Stark calls him bisexual outside of the show. Buck has had what seemed to be a perfect fairytale relationship with Tommy bc Tommy made him feel so safe and comfortable and taken care of that he just let everything else about his coming out journey kinda simmer on the back burner.

And, hey, there's nothing wrong with taking your time with that. But considering the scene at dispatch where he still couldn't talk about his sexuality in concrete terms, clearly he hasn't processed it much, if at all. Buck is the guy who dives deep into research at the slightest opportunity, him knowing so little about queerness and queer culture six months into a serious same-sex relationship isn't just out of character but a clear sign that he simply hasn't done any work to explore his sexuality for himself outside of his relationship with Tommy. Whether the writers intended for it read like that or not doesn't matter very much, bc that's exactly what I'm seeing here.

And, again, that alone as a reason to break up with someone is extremely shitty but that's also not what happened.

Tommy clearly has a history of isolating. He's been hurt a lot in the past, we don't need to know the details to know he's a deeply wounded man who spent most of his life guarding his own heart from the world. He told Buck and the audience over and over again, "I look confident. I look sure. I am comfortable. But it took hard work. I wasn't like this before. This is new. This is good but this is scary. I'm working on it I'm working on it I'm working."

He can see that Buck views him as something more, something better, than he thinks he is. Buck loves Tommy, Buck was infatuated with Tommy. Tommy was this perfect guy in Buck's eyes. And that scared Tommy. It intimidated him. But he kept going bc it wasn't a big deal and he could always remind Buck that hey he's just a guy, a guy who had done things wrong for a long time. But Buck never fully grasped it either. Likely bc of how good Tommy made him feel, he struggled to fully grasp that things with Tommy couldn't always be so perfect and good and safe.

They don't talk about that but they keep going bc they like each other bc they're falling in love bc until that six month mark they were both still fairly distracted by how good it felt to be together to really, seriously consider the ramifications of ignoring those not-so-little things they didn't want to face right then.

And then suddenly it's been six months and they're clearly both in love and they're both clearly not ready to be acknowledging that at all. It's been six months and they're just trying to match each other's pace but have never talked about what that pace actually is and then suddenly they're talking about how Tommy used to be engaged to the woman who taught Buck what a real relationship meant and they still aren't even ready to acknowledge they're in love but Buck is already asking to move in together and talking about marriage and they haven't even said i love yous and Buck can't even utter the word bisexual out loud but he wants to jump into living together and fusing their lives together.

But he's not ready for that. As far as Tommy can see he's not ready for that. And if he's asking for something so big when he can't even say the word love then maybe, in Tommy's mind, he'll never truly be able to say it. Maybe they'll keep going like this. Living together and being together but Buck can't face his sexuality as its own thing and Tommy can't face how his trauma affects their relationship and eventually it'll be too much and maybe Buck still wouldn't want to say it and Tommy would push him away like he pushes everyone away and then they'll be right back to that moment, weeks or months or years later, with Buck wanting more but not able to say those words and with Tommy wishing he'd left before it hurt so much.

And sure it hurts to leave now but at least now he's early. Now, Buck hasn't wrapped himself around every piece of his life. Just his heart. At least now he'll hurt but he won't have to move just to get rid of the scent of Evan Buckley perpetually lingering in every corner of his home.

Buck loves Tommy so much he can't imagine a future without him. Tommy loves him so much he can't imagine a future where he gets to keep him.

The break-up makes all the sense in the world. It just doesn't make sense that the break-up wouldn't force them to work on their respective issues and bring them back together stronger in the future.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

thoughts on fanfiction, perfectionism, and being enough

I'm pretty sure I'm ill and half-asleep and the Good Omens fandom has destroyed my last tenuous grasp on reality, but I am making a post anyway not knowing what I'm going to say. Because that's what this site is for, is it not?

*holds out hand* *waits for you to take it* Hey, you know, you're never going to be done. You're never going to look at something you made and think it's perfect. It's never going to be enough. It's okay to stop and it let it be imperfect. The earth didn't just birth life into just the right conditions, it made creatures which evolved and went extinct, ice ages which ended, volcanos that destroyed life and volcanos that preserved cities for millennia. It made jagged rocks that would be smoothened by rivers and stomachs that would hunger, rivers that would flood and rivers that would run dry.

Create imperfect things and give them to the world. Let the world create from it in turn in an endless cycle. Like Milton on the Bible, like BBC with Sherlock Holmes, like anyone writing fanfiction of their favourite show... Let your creation be imperfect, so you can see all the million ways in which people try to perfect it. All the million ways in which perfection can exist. That's the beauty of fandoms and fanworks. It keeps the creation evolving, keeps it breathing and alive. It becomes the work of a million people, and carries their stories with it in a little back pocket.

And maybe we were made to be imperfect too. Our hair tangles just to be brushed, our arm itches just to be scratches, our hand clenches just to be held and unclenched. There are odd shapes that make us up but they fit in with everyone else's, in handshakes, in bridal carries, in a parent lifting a child, a rescue worker lifting a victim, a girl kissing her wife, a child hugging his toy, a person holding their hands in prayer or in pain.

I'm trying to remind myself of that, because it's so easy to keep wanting more, to believe that there will be a point at which I will be satisfied with what I have done. Even in this fandom, I look at my ridiculous summaries I accidentally wound up making, and look at someone's beautiful meta blog and I feel like shrinking a little bit. But in real life, I'm a designer and an artist, a reader and poet and songwriter, and someone who has been a writer the past eight years, if not all my life. Have I done enough to qualify for any of these roles? Who knows? It shouldn't matter to me, and it shouldn't matter to you, whatever you love doing or are doing.

It will never be enough, you will never be enough for yourself. Can we try to make peace with that little gap in ourselves that acts like a vacuum to keep sucking in more and more effort and things? It'll never be filled. That's okay.

*squeezes your hand before letting go* Isn't it amazing how imperfect and fucked up we all are? Isn't it beautiful that we don't have to sit and stare at statues we cannot touch, but we get stone that we can keep carving all we like? That creation starts with imperfection? I don't know if I'm making sense anymore, the medications are kicking in and my eyes are closing. But I love all of you, everyone who is a maggot and everyone reading this post, too.

Take this *holds out a seashell* it's pretty and it's broken and the animal that made it his home changed it, the sea changed it, and I hope you change it, too. That's all.

[tsbs-shipfessions]

Ship confessions?

S..Safe place to share rants?

Oh dear how should I say this...

(Warning for anyone not supporting SolarNexus I guess..)

As much as I like the story of how New Moon went deranged from grief and self deterioration: as in finally realising he can never satisfy this "family's" need of him to be thee og Moon himself. A carbon copy replacement with unrealistic expectations set at full high. (Even though factually thanks to Eclipses V1-4 transitions it's shown that it can't possibly be 100% accurate.) Failing again and again over and over till the event of Solar's death finally snapping him. Derailing himself to push everyone away to the point of losing himself entirely as Nexus.

And Solar valuing New Moon so much that he was in absolute distraught when the first thing he hears upon waking was that his best friend, HIS REASON OF HOME, lost himself so far in the name of lone desperation. A desperation he knows all too well thanks to his past Moon's ungracious reaction to unfortunate loss.

Solar knows what it's like to be alone and afraid. He can't possibly leave Nexus like the others like the flip of the switch! Because just as he gave mercy to Eclipse and Ruin, he'd give mercy to Nexus too.

The canon doesn't make any sense!

And, well, being a silent (yet intimidated from this fandom) supporter of SolarNexus...

The angst writer side of me wishes that this story didn't clap off to the cliche "power hungry" complex.

Why not have Solar continue to drive himself to find some cure or solution? In the name of friendship; to justify himself that he can fix it all before it's too late. To not lose another from his (falsely blamed and uncontrolled) faults. To be the reassurance of comfort Nexus so desperately needed.

Why not have Nexus secretly die inside whenever he speaks the words he does not mean; unwillingly pushing himself to the edge every time he starts to believe hope can be retrieved. Falling in the spiral that nothing is real and he has no right to feel and express. The moment Nexus felt like grasping on light is when strings of dark pull him to a choke to remind just exactly who he's working with. Why he even decided to make a deal with DarkSun. That no matter how Nexus puts it, he technically is a husk for dark star power. An element. Like a living battery for some bigger project he may not be entirely aware of. (And my best guess: a tragic death to Dark Sun's intricate plans.)

A reminder so cruel and twisted that Nexus can't possibly see a way out without Solar's guidance and safety.

Life was never fair for the both of them. They both suffered at being blamed and antagonised for things they had no proper control over. They both had self doubts and a sense that they were never home.

(For f--k's sake! Nexus was LOSING HIS MIND!! CRITICAL DANGER OF WELL BEING, and the "family" decided: Hey! Instead of actually getting him proper treatment, lets just lock him in a cell and keep calling him a villain for insulting people! An action he had no say over because HAHA he LoSt hIs mInD. Wha- eH- HUUEUUH???? NnNO???)

But ey! They were Home for each other.

That's why Solar and NM/Nexus's friendship worked so well! They had a sense of comfort to speak and express openly, to have negativity or concerns spill out without backlash. To actually live freely knowing they have each others back!

And I'd like to believe they'd still ache to have this connection again. That Solar would do whatever it takes to have Nexus free from his chains.

Not to be welcomed by the "family", but to be welcomed by Solar's own loving arms. To get proper care, proper help, proper recognition of all parts of Nexus. Both good and bad.

I really think there's tragedy love potential here. I wished to see them fight whatever forces against them to be together again. To get at least that ounce of safety within the chaos.

Whether it's fighting mental illness or dark star power. Who cares! They gonna be together again dAhM iT! Even if it's just a minute before tragic death from DarkSun or somethin! T-T

*COUGH* oUgh man.. what a doozy of a topic..

Thank you so much for reading! And for making this confessions blog! I appreciate it! Was really good to have this off my chest. Wish you and everyone reading a wonderful day/evenin! :)

I admire the hell out of your passion. This was a good read, and has a lot of neat points. Nice going, Anon.

[3hks]

Choosing the Main Character

When building or choosing a protagonist, there are things that you NEED to take into consideration if you don't exactly have an idea of who should be the head of the story or if there's just too many good characters to choose from!

THE CAST

I'll get something out of the way, really quick. In my opinion, the cast and environment your characters are around should influence your choice more than the plot will. The plot is normally made in SHAPE of your protagonist. The goal of your character should be the leading arc of your story.

If you could substitute ANY character you wish to take the role of the protagonist into the plot with ZERO changes to the character and plot, then your storyline may just be too generic or simple. And in that case, pretty much any characters will do.

COMPLEX V.S CLASSIC (Skippable)

When I'm talking about a simple main character, I mean that they follow a more standard trope.

They usually have qualities such as goodness, ambition, and are special (powerful, unique, etc). They're often fighting for change and have a potent, normally sad, backstory.

But don't get the wrong idea, there is absolutely nothing wrong with this type of character--I just want to make it clear that they tend to have more standard traits of a protagonist and are used frequently, which is why I'll classify them as "classic."

So with that being said, I consider a complex character to be one with separate attributes that are scarcer.

You know those fun and/or interesting side characters that literally everyone loves? I consider them to be more complex because they have a more original character fueled by an interesting past and personality, which the audience loves. They are amusing to bring to life; however, they are also more difficult to write when they're the main character because of their intricacy.

So when is it appropriate to use a "classic" main character and when is it appropriate to use a "complex" one?

WHEN TO USE WHAT?

Based on my observations, a less populated or simple cast usually has a more complex main character. On the flip side, a more populated or complex cast will tend to have a more classic main character.

My reasoning for this is because the writers want to balance their characters out. If your story has too many intricate characters, it can be too much for your readers to fully grasp and understand them all. Different and unique characters are amazing, don't get me wrong, but it requires a lot more time and effort to form a bunch of complex characters in the same story.

However, there are certain characters that should be naturally detailed. Most often, these are:

The protagonist (Even if they're leaning more towards a "classic" side, as the main character, they should be pretty intricate.)

Love Interest

Best Friend/Rival (Whoever is closest to the protagonist, really.)

Antagonist

Besides these four, if you see that your other side characters are also incredibly complex, it may be smart to choose a protagonist that is simpler.

ROOM FOR DEVELOPMENT

The thing is, even if most of your characters don't go through a lot of character development, (which makes some sense because it's hard to make everyone grow) your main character NEEDS it.

If they're too close to perfect or you can't find something about them that they can change or learn from, there's hardly going to be any development for your lead, which is something to avoid.

So basically, what I mean is that your favorite character with your favorite attributes may not always fit the protagonist category if you're reluctant to change them.

However, that doesn't mean that they can't be a solid side character!

WHAT TO LOOK FOR

Oftentimes, there are certain things that a protagonist specifically has in which some other characters may not have. With that being said, if you can say yes to these questions about your character, then they'll be a great fit!

Do they have a specific view of the world?

Do they have a specific goal in mind?

Is there a solid reason for the goal?

Do they have some sort of backstory that builds onto their persona?

Will they undergo any sort of change or lesson?

And yes! Because the protagonist and antagonist are usually foils of each other, these questions very well work for the other side too!

CONCLUSION

Alright! So my biggest take on this is that when given a more complex or populated cast, a standard protagonist will usually fit better. And on the other hand, a simpler or sparser cast will call for a more complex protagonist!

Happy writing~

3hks :)

[askew-d]

YIZHAN FIC REC LIST

— if you just got into the fandom, you might know switched, yizhan or yizhan through the years, so let’s go through other stuff! we’re gonna take another ride. also, if you care about this, green will be for bjyx dynamic, red will be for zsww and blue will be for lsfy. from my point of view, ofc. orange will be for the not specified, couldn’t grasp. let’s go.

• where else but home, by purplemoster — fluff story where wang yibo accidentally returns home to xiao zhan every time. super sweet read!

• ⭐️ cool boy gets a life, by saezutte — xiao zhan’s a writer and his character, cool buy wang yibo, gains life. it’s wonderful, i want a cool boy for myself. who wrote this did an awesome job.

• ⭐️ i’m not as good as you think (or as bad as they say), by ilyria — aaahh, what a gorgeous story! basically, xiao zhan becomes yibo manager and the idol, well, falls in love. there’s a sequel!

• follow shot, by cataclysms — cameraman wang yibo freaks out about idol xiao zhan. because, come on, it’s xiao zhan! we get you, boy. beautiful.

• xiao zhan’s graphic design playbook, by augmenti — this one’s absolutely gold! fantastic. xiao zhan as graphic designer and yibo as someone who thinks his prices are too small. sexual tension ensues.

• caffeine addictions and brain malfunctions, by little_passions — if you want a coffeeshop yizhan au, here’s your to-go! cute!

• query: cardiac, by iluvnaruto1412 — our radiographer technician wang yibo discovers that doctor xiao’s a hottie. there’s a whole series that’s outstanding, don’t mind the mcd in the last part, you’ll understand as you read.

• an ode to love, by spoonful_of_sugar — sappy reminiscent of their story. truly so fluffy i had toothaches the entire read.

• ⭐️ one feline war for love, by ilyria —a fierce cat becomes a human after xiao zhan saves him, and this human wants xiao zhan all for himself. so very good, i died and resuscitated. worth it.

• chef’s kiss, by jalpari — chef xiao zhan in day day for an episode and becomes enemies with wang yibo. but for a short time. love this development for them!! so well done.

• ⭐️ this is what they say, by xiaoyibao (a_storm_of_frustrations) — yibo thinks xiao zhan’s breaking up when the man’s actually trying to get married to him. comic, lovely, poetic!

• set me into motion, by deinde — backup dancers wang yibo and xiao zhan being whipped towards one another. an angel wrote this.

• ⭐️ finding yibo, by vesna (mrsronweasley) — kidfic where yibo transforms into a young version of himself and xiao zhan takes care of him. i’m losing my head. it’s great!

• ⭐️🎖️never close our eyes, series by thirtysixsavefiles — catboy wang yibo and kinda batman xiao zhan. perfect through every part. i’m flabbergasted.

• 119 my cat is struck, by serendiiii — fireman yibo, cat owner xiao zhan, you can have my heart! adorable!

• a spot of light, by akatsukishin — this is for everyone who loves a drama! delivery boy xiao zhan and successful ceo wang yibo.

• a story of others to tell, by deinde — this author has some seriously good plots. in this one, yibo pines enough to end up in cql world. extra nice!

• cut to the feeling, by vesna (mrsronweasley) — drama pa and the huge star xiao zhan. is there anything better?

• love thy neighbour, by jalpari — single dad xiao zhan and neighbour who becomes babysitter wang yibo. marvellous!

• ‘cos you make me feel electric, by chajatta — fansite xiao zhan loves his inspiration, wang-laoshi from uniq. i love this for them, genuinely.

• ⭐️🎖️ world of cultivation, by eggo — yibo and xiao zhan meet each other through a game; well, not only. hilarious! chaotic! romantic! perfect!

• gravitating towards you, by bittersweetirony — high school au with student council president xiao zhan and sports freak wang yibo, we all know we needed it.

• 181.3 cm high, by eleven14 — wang yibo wakes up high in anaesthesia. you might imagine what comes after. excellent!

• ⭐️ we are made to love, by jalpari — xiao zhan writes columns receives one letter questioning on love. aah, so poetic! definitely worth every second.

• no path better than our own, by athousandfaces — harry potter au! we’re lucky to have this gorgeous story. i had a lot of fun reading it.

• my future in your laugh, by timelykey — doctor xiao zhan falling in love with overworked wang yibo. wow, what a journey, you’re losing it if you haven’t read it yet.

• love in the time of coding, by thevoiryflute — a hacker au for yibo fits him so much, i don’t know why. just know that this perfectly-written story caused butterflies in my stomach.

• summer surf shop, by anonymous — yibo goes to a variety show and gets much more than he imagined. absolutely gold.

• pick me, pick me up, by domeneec — wrong number au for yizhan, we need it. and it’s so well-written too.

• escape velocity, redefined, by thirtysixsavefiles — i have to admit that this au of pirating away together with royalty made me suspicious at first. but after i read it, it’s so goddamn brilliant.

• 缘分 | (yuánfèn), by fyredancer — royalty au, give me more yizhan royalty. good writing, good development, good plot, had a good time reading it.

• signal fire, series by fireflavoredwhiskey — spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! if he knew about that, he’d be happy to know that in an universe he gets to be his favorite superhero.

• ⭐️ the magic position, by sophiahelix — just a sweet, short story with yizhan being cute together and it melts my heart away every time.

• ⭐️🎖️ with joy and purpose, by feenwitch — android wang yibo living alone in a planet until xiao zhan crashes his plane there. it’s just perfect. and the writing’s wonderful.

• perfect match, by sandorara — personal ai for xiao zhan turns out to be more than he expected. gorgeous wang yibo affecting xiao-laoshi and changing his course of life. incredible!

• 🎖️ their kindred encounters, by fireflavoredwhiskey — can i have this printed, please? actually, i think there might have. it’s a the age of adeline au, xiao zhan doesn’t get old. melancholic in the ideal dosage. angst. comfort. everything.

• the ruby ox and the golden boy, series by aces_low — a mafia au that attracted me. i’m usually not into these kind of aus but aah this one… it’s unique.

• ⭐️ half is loss, half is gain, by yin_chi — celebrity xiao zhan needs a bodyguard and guess who it is? well, yeah, this story’s a blessing upon us here. i couldn’t stop reading once i began, just warning y’all. addictive, i want more.

• ⭐️🎖️ between holocenes, by fireflavoredwhiskey — this author broke the heart of so many people by just vanishing from the fandom, but ah how greatly they write and how extraordinary their works are. this is a the time traveler’s wife au and it rocks.

• fixtures and fittings, by ella_minnow — interior designer xiao zhan and motorcyclist wang yibo! believe me when i said i screamed during the development of their relationship.

• ⭐️ 为战而爱, series by anonymous — bits of sdc moments with established relationship yizhan, the works are seriously stunning.

• what i could do (if i didn’t love you), by trestle — one-night stand au with architect xiao zhan. seriously really good through and through.

• ⭐️ hand in glove, by pessoa — brat yibo; you have my heart. the development in this work’s crazy, it’s a whole rollercoaster of feelings. neighbours au!

• say you love me (again and again), by lanwuxiann — sweet story of yizhan growing up together and loving each other through every step of the way. hella soft!

• ⭐️ four of hearts (l-o-v-e me zhan-ge), by eleven14 — yibo being silly to win over xiao zhan’s heart, and of course, it works. short, but very funny and lovely.

• a head’s up, by madfilaments — xiao zhan arrives at sdc without giving a head’s up and yibo’s frustrated. a pretty satisfying thing to read. awesome.!

• 7 reasons to support your local cat café, by buttstrife — host wang yibo, cat café owner xiao zhan, a romance for the history books. they’re so very lovable.

• ⭐️ the bravest man i ever knew, by biscuitpoo — another hogwarts au! this time, xiao zhan’s a bit more slytherin-like, and it’s a whole show.

• ⭐️🎖️ so happy you could come; so happy to be here, by alex_mtg — a masterpiece! betrothed yizhan with royalty and the uniq boys and this sweet development of their relationship. just amazing! :)

• ⭐️ threads, by planet_b612 — a sherlock and watson au! it’s phenomenal! in fact, this author has only good works, so it’s definitely worthy to check out.

since i’m doing this already, might as well recommend some of my own stories, so i’ll be adding the ones i favour (sssh):

• half a bottle is enough — yizhan fight and xiao zhan gets home carrying a cardboard wang yibo. just some silly boyfriendos!

• falling; never broken — yibo has bulimia (please, be aware of the trigger warnings) and xiao zhan’s a doctor who helps him.

• a best friend and a lover — xiao zhan goes on different dates with different versions of wang yibo to look for a ‘type’. they’re both stupidly in love, your honour.

• darling you, play it cool — yizhan bodyswap au where only wang yibo’s famous though. i wrote this in 2023 and i’m the most proud of it.

• sleep tight until the moonlight — yizhan enemies to lovers where both of them spend their time being radio hosts in university :)

• whispering through dusty aisles — my au where xiao zhan’s a literary deity and yibo’s still famous, they meet occasionally and sparks fly. it’s my most poetic creation.

everyone, please remember this is my opinion! of course, there a lot of other works — famous or not — who aren’t in here. if you want to check out more recs of mine, see my bookmarks! thank you :)

[chaithetics]

frothing at the mouth for any norm fics

Gaps of Sunlight

Pairing: Norm Maclean (Fallout) x f reader Word count: 4.5K Gif by @klausbens Warning: Barely proofread, pining, longing, maybe a little fluff and angst? a jab at Chet's weird crush, this is set before the events of Fallout S1 so some 'foreshadowing' I guess but doesn't have any spoilers! Mitski inspired! A/N: Ask and you shall receive 🙏(translation: thank you for enabling me!!!) This is my first time writing Norm and it's the most fun I've had with writing a fic in a long time! I feel like I'm a more descriptive writer and I haven't had an idea flow like this in quite a while. I feel like this is similar to 'Porce and the Shark' in terms of writing? Idk how well this flows as a story lol?!?! I've barely written any angst and I haven't really done any yearning, so I hope this is good! So please validate, I just felt like I was never going to finish or/fix it enough so I thought I'd post it as is. Thought about the queen of angst, @inknopewetrust's work a lot when I started writing this. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated 🫶

You lay in bed as you couldn’t help but think about it all. Once again. You could go outside to the corn fields but all that could offer you was a projection from a time and place well before you were even conceived as an idea. You’d never really know what the sunlight felt like, how it would heat your chin and what it would be like to bathe in that light. You had tried to live vicariously through that with what approved, classic literature had survived the war and through the vaults. Shakespeare didn’t offer you much beyond metaphors that were just out of your grasp with relatability to your environment, you hadn’t particularly enjoyed Chaucer, an opinion you’d kept from your father. While the Brontë sisters were able to perfectly let you know what rain in a different continent would’ve felt like against your face and how it would’ve smelt and made your shoes feel to run across an English countryside, they never enlightened you about what being bathed in sunlight would feel like. There were only so many times you could read and annotate Homer’s works awaiting a revelation. 

Despite how everyone else moved around Vault 33, it was impossible for you to not help but wonder more of life. What it all was, and what it all meant. 

You pull yourself out of a possible mental spiral and quickly get ready for the day as it eases on just as every other day does in the Vault. There’s breakfast with a pleasant conversation with your family, and you teach English classes to the youth of Vault 33, you participate in other extracurriculars just like most of the other Vault dwellers but teaching takes up the bulk of each of your days. You don’t mind that at all though, you enjoy it, even on days where everything feels like a complete rut. The mornings when the blue of the vault suits feels like too much, the pleasantries feel more like programming than authentic connections. 

It had started like every other day and classes had happened accordingly, there was now the communal reprieve of lunch. As you slowly chew you look up and see him across the dining hall, despite being from the poster-perfect vault family, he’s Vault 33’s very own black sheep, Norman MacLean. He’s sitting there silently while his dad and Lucy are happily chatting away. Each taking turns trying to lure him into conversation, which he rejects each time with a quick, blink and you’ll miss it shake of his head. The same expression he always wears these days and has for years is etched onto his face, a chronic look of apathy. 

You can’t help but stare at him for a moment, watching the way he looks on almost blankly. Even from across the room, you can see every thought in those brown doe eyes as if he’s saying them aloud. How is it that he’s still so misunderstood? 

You’d grown up with Norm, he’d always been nice to you, even when you were at school. But that wasn’t exceptional, that was the whole thing with vault-dwellers, being nice people, even from a very young age. It’s not exactly a melting pot of cultures in the Vault like you know the surface once was but the culture is to be nice, chirpy, and practical. 

Norm was nice, he had a quiet charm, he’d be a good politician, just in a different way and style as his father, he was practical but he didn’t have a cheery disposition. He lacked enthusiasm and at times it seemed to almost fascinate him how much that little rebellion could bother people. He didn’t put himself out there and you remember how he was smart, he knew answers to the questions that were asked but he’d never put his hand up for them. 

It made you wonder at times if he was scared of his own voice. You feel your eyes squinting as you look at him wondering that question, as if studying his jawline for another minute or watching him lift his fork up to his mouth will tell you. 

With a deep breath, you tilt your head discreetly to look around to see if anyone noticed your infatuated staring but nobody seems to. You still put a polite, chirpy smile on your face in case anyone did. That should be enough for anyone to notice anything your eyes might’ve been betraying. 

Your mind still stays on him, because as always, you might see him better than anyone else but he is still a puzzle with pieces you have yet to find the corners to.

You’re sitting near the cornfield, trying to live vicariously in a world that’s not yours, one that will always be out of touch, just trapped into ink on a page and repeated for the ears of children, to fulfil a mission. But it’s his voice that pulls you out of the inner world of classical Greek horrors. 

“Sunny day today.” He says as he looks down at you as you sit on the chair and look at his standing form. He says it as if it isn’t sunny every day with that projection meant to convince you of what the surface once knew and not instead fall flat and be more reminiscent of golden Hollywood-esque crops on sets of the films that have survived. Norm’s voice is quiet, he’s just as soft-spoken as you remember him being so long ago. His tone is bored, but it doesn’t deter you, how could it when he’s standing in front of you looking into your eyes? 

He looks into your eyes, taking in the colour, worried that someday he could forget the flicks closest to your eyes. They might rearrange if he doesn’t look at them for another ten seconds to appreciate them. He could forget them. But he never would. 

“Just like your disposition.” You quietly tease, offering him a shy smile. 

Just as if it’s somehow not always sunny, a rare occasion worth being spoken about, so is his unchanging character. But beyond adding in a couple of cups of more confidence perhaps, you don’t think there’s much else that could be worth editing. 

“And for that exact reason, I’m surprised I’m getting a job transfer with the reasoning being my enthusiasm levels.” He says with a breathless chuckle. 

You tilt your head as you look up at him, he’s still standing, the toe of his shoe almost toying with something invisible on the artificial emerald green grass. You’d put your thumb in your book when he’d arrived but now you put your bookmark in and gently close it. Placing it gently on your lap. 

It hadn’t been that long since you’d both finished your education, having had jobs and duties in the vault was important for its efficiency and functionality. But still, this wouldn’t be Norm’s second job. You were still the teacher you’d been assigned at the start of your adult life, most people in the vault only ever had one job, sometimes they would change and so have had two in their whole life and of course, there would be a change of two or sometimes three for overseers, but three while still being so young was very rare. You had questions and internal crises about this world all the time, there was always a moment somewhere in your world that you felt slightly out of place. But still, contentment had found a way to settle in your bones much easier than it did for him. 

“What were the enthusiasm levels?” You ask quietly, slowly blinking. You already know the answer. 

Norm looks down at the ground, at the grass he could tug out and it would just never grow back. No matter how desperately everyone would want to pretend it would. His foot is so close to yours, mere inches away, the toe of his shoe could just brush against yours and no one would know. 

“Nought.” He says with disinterest, he slightly shrugs his shoulders as his eyes stay planted on the ground. 

“Something will stick eventually.” You say. 

You say stick, you don’t say that there will definitely be something he loves or that it’ll all be okay, it’s not what he wants to hear and you don’t know if there’s a role in this world that you both live in that would fulfil him as much as his father is fulfilled by being Overseer. He appreciates that. But he needs to change the subject. 

“Is a literature teacher always reading?” He questions as if it’s a riddle that might amuse him. 

“More likely to happen than finding them counting.” You say as you tilt your head. You don’t remember the last time he approached you for conversation, or the last time that he did and there were this many words. It would’ve been back when you were younger, still classmates. You can’t track an exact memory down which surprises you.

“So, what’s that one?” He asks looking at the book in your lap for a moment before his eyes slowly gaze back to your face, making eye contact for the first time in over a minute. You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at this. You feel seen as his eyes rake up and take in every facial feature and unique mark on you. 

Everyone makes a false and fatal assumption about Norm. They assume that because he’s not extroverted and over-the-top warm like Lucy or Hank, that he’s not charming. That’s complete crap. You know it’s false. He’s not the same as his family or a lot of the people in your home vault but without a doubt, Norman MacLean oozes charisma. He knows just when to turn it on and how to utilise it in the best way with each person. And right now, it’s working on you. 

“The Three Theban plays, by Sophocles.” You whisper as your eyes bore into him, you don’t dare to blink. Too scared that he might just disappear if you do, and that when your eyes open again, this will all be confirmed as another of one of your many daydreams about him. “They’re tragedies, I’m reading Antigone, at the moment.” You feel yourself latching each word onto the next word as if you’re climbing a ladder and need to build more rungs at the same time, there’s some intrinsic need in you to draw this out for just a few more moments. His presence gives you some kind of glow. You finally blink, your eyes not able to hold it anymore, he’s somehow still standing in front of you once your lids open. You immediately wonder if you’ve said too much and try to fight the urge to sigh but the urge to not let on how embarrassed you feel is more of a priority, you need to keep that internal. 

“And what has that taught you?” He asks with a small smile. 

Someone else might’ve found the tone cold. If someone else had asked that exact question, it might’ve felt condescending. But you know exactly what it is. 

Norm knows better, not better than you, he’s not that kind of arrogant. It’s because he’s always known that he knows better than most in these reinforced concrete and metal walls you all live in. But you live in a meritocracy. Everyone is in constant pursuit to be kind and to better and upskill as a contributing member of Vault society. Of course if someone’s openly reading it’s an academic pursuit, to be more well-read, that they can learn an important tale and moral lesson, or to use it as a quote to whip out at a convenient time in a council meeting or for intellectual criticism of another philosopher or writer’s thesis. And you both know it’s why each book that was chosen for survival by Vault-Tec was carefully curated, all in the name of intellectual pursuits and other reasons beyond either of your imagination. 

“Just further proof why we have rules against familial relations.” You reply after a slow blink, you remember what his sense of humour used to be like in class, how teachers would occasionally stifle an eye roll and sigh or would take a moment to then replaster their smile back on. You look at him, and your eyes can’t help but take in the shape of his nose as if you hadn’t already committed it to memory a thousand times before now. 

“Hah.” He says quietly, as if it’s amusing, which he finds to be a little as he lets out a small chuckle and his mouth quirks up and that makes you happy. It’s an expression that doesn’t grace his handsome face often. “Might need to pass that on to Chet, if that’s the case, I doubt he’s read it.” 

You let out a chuckle at that, and Norm’s brow furrows for a mere second as he takes you in. His mouth is still in a small smile but not many people find his humour to actually be humorous, his father and Lucy love him but he earns more small sighs and tired smiles from them than anything close to a laugh. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m done with this copy.” You reply with another slow blink. 

You watch his mouth, mentally tracing his lips with your eyes as he sucks his lips for a moment and nods, his eyes dropping to the ground again. It’s only then that you realise how close the toes of your feet are to each other. He couldn’t be looking down because of that, or thinking about that though. You are cursed to yearn in silence. “Appreciate it.” He says with a small smirk as he looks up at your eyes, he raises his eyebrows slightly to replace any verbal goodbyes and he walks off. 

Norm leaves you as he found you minutes before, all alone in false sunlight with a book in your hands. You still haven’t found the missing puzzle pieces. 

It had been four days now. Four days since you’d had that conversation with Norm, there had been plenty of stolen glances, and a few returned smiles when your eyes met across corridors or the dining hall, but Norman MacLean was still, one of the only things occupying your mind.

You wouldn’t complain, why would you? How could you when the fact that those glances, and snippets of conversations were now a supercut in your head that provided comfort whenever you started to get into another emotional crisis about vault life and what the history was that had brought everyone to this point. But still, you couldn’t help but sometimes worry over this yearning. How unrequited it could be. How unrequited it felt. 

You felt a hunger in the pit of your stomach each time that you saw his shadow, each time you two made eye contact you couldn’t help but feel as if it was a caress on your skin, even though the only time he’d touched you was to help you up when you’d fallen over outside when you were seven. He’d insisted on being the one to put the excessive amount of band-aids on your grazed hands. Hank had stood back and watched, finding it endearing, how concentrated Norm’s face was at such a young age. Maybe they should’ve thought about trialling him in medicine, but no, he probably still lacked the desired enthusiasm during the first-aid training vault-dwellers did. 

You were seated with your family for a council update, everyone gathered to sit on the folded chairs, you and your family were always extremely punctual, you sat with them on one side while the other was still a row of a few empty seats. 

As people slowly trickle in you see Norm come in, he looks mentally fatigued as he looks around, you turn your head to face your family so you don’t catch his eye in hopes of him not noticing your stare. How pathetic would he think you are if he saw you looking at him like a wide-eyed puppy, begging for love? You can imagine, but you don’t want to know. After a moment you hear somebody sit down next to you, the chatter of people finding seats fills your ears but you don’t hear any from whoever sits down. You feel their arm brush against yours, you know it’s nothing but you instinctively turn to see who it is and to give them a polite and welcoming smile. 

It’s Norm. Of course, it’s Norm. But why is it? He’s just facing ahead so he hasn’t acknowledged you yet, although you’re sure he can see your smile and look in his peripheral vision. “Hey.” You say quietly in a warm voice as you look at his handsome side profile, he shouldn’t look that good. His face shouldn’t be so perfectly sculpted. “Hi.” He says quietly as he tilts his head giving you a small look that seems dramatically playful which makes you smile, and let out a silent chuckle. Norm’s face turns back ahead to face the front where his father now stands and the council sit. Your eyes follow his gaze and you turn back in your seat to look straight ahead as Hank MacLean starts his updates in his usual down-to-earth, selfless leader tone. 

You can’t help but wonder if this is a sign, him choosing this seat, you even wonder if his arm brushing against you was intentional as he sat down and then again you wonder if you were being crazy for wondering that. As Hank’s words go on to fill the air, they don’t really fill your head, that’s too busy being at full capacity with thoughts of Norman. You rub your chin after a moment, hoping the feeling of your fingertips and nails against your chin might create a sensory distraction. You get a completely different kind of sensory distraction when his arm gently brushes against yours as he leans back in his seat, he adjusts himself so that your shoulders are touching and you can feel his arm against yours. You can’t help but silently gasp, hoping he doesn’t hear it and your breath traps itself as you hold your breath. Feeling far too scared to move. It has to be intentional, you look at him through the corner of your eye as you try not to move. He’s still looking ahead, his expression unfazed as he looks at the people in front of him but he’s still sitting in that position. He hasn’t moved his arm. 

It’s intentional. 

You try to breathe again as your cheeks heat up, and you bite the corner of your lip. The feeling of his arm against yours sends shivers up your spine and you can feel the warmth of that small point of contact radiating throughout the rest of your body. 

The connection you feel with Norm is deep and for the first time in quite a while, this simple gesture of touching arms makes you wonder if these years of yearning maybe aren’t unrequited. You feel your shoulders start to slowly rise and fall again at this thought, this movement hasn’t disturbed Norm away. A smile grows on your face like the corn that’s picked around the year, as you smile and look ahead. The meeting continues like this, it isn’t till the end that you lose that gentle, physical touch, sweet connection that you long for as Norm gets up and leaves to carry on with his day, you smile as he stands up, he gives you as small smile and walks away. You’re now touch-starved all over again, and you think it feels more hollow after feeling a touch from him. 

Maybe one day it won’t be just your arms touching but instead your hands, your hands will brush against each other and then your fingers will interlock together. You’re better at camouflaging but you’re certain that your souls are made of and connected by the same things. 

It’s been what feels like an eternity since you felt Norm’s simple touch, it’s occupied every thought and been the reason behind nearly every smile since it happened. The question is though, has it been haunting Norm at all? You know he isn’t seeing anyone, secrets like that don’t exist here and it would certainly be talk with how introverted Norm is. 

Hours is the amount of time you’ve spent trying to think of a reason to approach him but nothing feels right and you decide against it anytime you get close to it. You try to find any excuse to visit him and the one you can think of is beyond pathetic, and you know that. 

You find another copy of a collection of plays and decide to give it to Norm, for him to decide whether he wants to read it or to fulfil a bit. It’s not a good reason, but it’s the best you’d been able to come up with. And at least with the book in your hands there would be some comfort in the pages, the smell of them and the remaining dust that haunted the corners that had been facing the wall. It can ground you and be something to hold onto anxiously while you make a fool of yourself. Norm conveniently answers after you’ve knocked at the MacLean family unit. He looks at your face and raises his eyebrows slightly, his face switches from an apathetic expression to one a bit warmer. “Hey.” You say, smiling at him but you think it must come off as panicked and scared as you look at him with wide eyes and feel an anxious parasite growing and feeding off of you in your brain. 

“Hi.” He says as he steps back letting you come into the unit. You walk in, and it’s nice and tidy but it’s the same as essentially your family unit and every other unit in Vault 33. You blink as you look around for a couple of seconds and your eyes land back on him, he’s been watching you the whole time. 

“After Lucy?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat up, you liked Lucy, she was an extremely lovely person and you did consider her a close friend. “No.” You shake your head, the admission makes you feel like coming here was an even worse idea than what you thought it was just a few minutes ago. “I brought a copy of tragedies, in case you needed any dark reading, or wanted to… pass them on…” You continue and bite your lip for a second. 

Norm lets out a little chuckle that shakes his shoulders for a second but it’s borderline silent, almost not real. He looks into your eyes and takes a step closer, you’re not sure if he’s going to do the hospitality script you learn from a young age of offering a glass of water or cup of old Joe. 

Instead, he quickly steps closer and Norm places his hands on the back of your neck, you sharply exhale and you know that the hair on the back of your neck is standing up. The feeling of goosebumps on every inch of your skin overwhelms your senses as his lips finally crash down. 

His lips are slightly chapped and you can feel that against yours, the fine lines and cracks as they press against your mouth. There’s nothing you can do but melt into his touch as you’re overcome with warmth. But there isn’t anything else you’d want to do anyway. 

There’s nothing else you can imagine feeling that feels this good. You kiss him back instinctively and put your hand into his hair as he deepens the kiss, his hair is soft and you run your fingers through it as you feel his tongue, and it’s a clash of your mouths against the other. 

You immediately wonder if the physical warmth of where your bodies come into contact, his breath against your face, his warm lips, and the warmth that envelops you internally is what sunlight feels like. This feeling basks you in what you imagine would be similar to being basked in the light of sunrays would. 

You don’t know how long this lasts, it feels like a sweet lifetime but still deliciously short as you kiss and feel his hair while his hand is gentle on the back of your neck. Like all things, it eventually ends. You look at each other with widened eyes and pant as your lips are no longer in contact. Your cheeks heat up and you almost want to giggle. You see his face is flushed and his eyes shine, you think it’s adoration but you could be projecting. 

“My dad will be back soon.” He whispers knowingly as his eyes look glassy. “Oh.” You look around as if that’ll help you feel more composed. You weren’t expecting this to end so abruptly, this felt like something straight out of a dream and now it was a cold end, something want to shapeshift into a nightmare. You know you should leave, you’re feeling far too flustered to try and have a conversation with Hank and you know this isn’t a conversation Norman wants to try navigating around with his father. “We um… Well, we need to talk…” You breathe out. 

He smiles and whispers your name, the tone is reverent as he says each syllable. “Not now.” His eyes look a little less glassy but it’s still a visible sheen and you can see it, the sun has withdrawn a little.  

“Not now?” You repeat, it comes out as a shaky question though as you feel every muscle in your body tense.

This is rejection, this is what puts all those protagonists you’ve read of into a depression that only the seaside can cure if anything can cure it. Being in this vault, you don’t think you can ask for cornfield projections to change to windy cliffs with waves crashing and the artificial grass to be replaced with manmade sand. You’d always wondered about the sunlight but now you’d have to wonder what sand from a beach felt like as well. 

“No.” He whispers. “That isn’t fair. Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you. 

“When?” “Maybe when you finish the book, not a copy, your book.” 

“Not a copy?” Your face scrunches up, as your brain runs screaming. 

“No.” He answers. “Yours probably has thoughtful annotations or something right?” He asks. 

“Or something.” You whisper back. 

“I’ll read that.” He says. 

You nod, as you pick up the spare copy and walk out from the MacLean unit, you don’t feel like you’re controlling your body right now, it must be some form of muscle memory.  Maybe you need to read and reread every book in the vault to further investigate if what you just felt was sunlight. Or, you wonder, are you still under gaps of sunlight, missing Norm more than anything?

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

"Him guilting Ladybug into staying quiet is why Lila is able to maintain her power for 4 more seasons."

I mean, I would blame more the writers for taking way too long to have Adrien realize his advice was bad.

(Post the quote is from)

Reminder that I am never actually blaming the characters, they are not real people. That's why this is explicitly a writing blog. In the context of the writing, yes, the pacing of everything Lila was terrible and is the real source of the issues. That doesn't change the fact that Adrien is the main narrative tool used to keep Marinette in line, thus me "blaming" him.

As you said, Adrien looks bad here not because he didn't understand how to handle the situation and gave bad advice, but because it takes him so long to realize that his advice was bad and apologize.

During Lila's first appearance, we see Adrien chastises Ladybug for being too mean to Lila, never once acknowledging that it was valid for Ladybug to be upset (S1E26). She is painted as fully in the wrong even though Lila was actively manipulating him and Ladybug arguably protected him here:

Adrien: Wait! Lila! (Lila runs away) Hey, what was that all about? Uh, I mean, weren't you kinda harsh with her? Ladybug: I...I don't put up with lies, especially when they're about me. (yo-yos away)

During Lila's second appearance (or, at least her second appearance where she actually interacts with the cast) he further drives that message home by telling Marinette to let Lila lie to people because he's more worried about hurting Lila's feelings than he is about removing Lila's power (S3E01):

Adrien: Are you going to tell everyone? Marinette: 'Course I am. Lila is— Adrien: (interrupting) A liar. Yes, I know. But do you really think exposing her will make things better? If you humiliate her, she'll just be hurt more. Making a bad guy suffer has never turned them into a good guy. Lila: Ladybug and I are like two peas in a pod. Marinette: So we just stand by and let her lie? Adrien: As long as you and I both know the truth, does it really matter? Marinette: You're right, maybe it's not such a big deal.

We'll circle back to how terrible this advice was in a second. First lets finish off going through the sequence of events.

And finally, at the tail end of season five, Adrien openly acknowledges that he's been giving terrible advice (S5E20):

Adrien: I'm sorry, Marinette. I was wrong. I shouldn't have told you to not act against Lila. If you give the slightest opportunity to people like her, they'll grasp at it and cause disasters in no time. And now, you're the one who looks like a bad person. Marinette: (reaches out to hold his hand beside her) You thought you were doing the right thing. Just like with Chloe. That's another reason why I love you, Adrien. You always want to see the good in other people. But sometimes, the good we think we see in some people is just a reflection of our own, and we end up being fooled by our own kindness. (They squeeze each other's hands.) But we'll find a way to expose Lila eventually.

If we look at these three moments in a vacuum, this is honestly a good character arc for a character like Adrien. He's a peace keeper, which is a wonderful match to Marinette's blind justice approach. It's good that Adrien is there to balance her out! It's also good for him to learn that his approach doesn't always work and that you can't always keep the peace.

The problem is that Adrien didn't actually get a functional character arc where he learned those lessons. The episodes are so drawn out that it doesn't feel like we watch him grow and learn. His apology is almost three full seasons after his second bit of bad advice, leaving us to wonder when he changed his mind because Lila does a lot of awful things during those three seasons. What moment made him realize that he was in the wrong here? We don't know, so this feels less like growth and more like the writers throwing in a scene to shut up fans who were still complaining about Adrien's terrible advice even though it had been four real world years since he actually gave it.

There's also the issue that Adrien tells Marinette, "making a bad guy suffer has never turned them into a good guy." This line implies that Adrien's goal is to help Lila change. The problem is that we never see him do that. He doesn't try to help Lila. The most we get is him making a deal with Lila to protect Marinette, but that's not him helping Lila change. He doesn't approach that conversation as if he's trying to help Lila see that what she did was wrong. He approaches it as if he knows that she won't change. It's less trying to make Lila a better person and more a deal with the devil:

Adrien: (sits next to Lila) I warned you once already, Lila, but you didn't listen. You hurt my friend Marinette, and that's not okay. Lila: Me? Hurting Marinette? But she's the one who- Adrien: I don't know how to prove you lied, Lila, because you're good at it. So you'll just have to come up with another lie, just as convincing. Only this time it's gonna prove Marinette's innocent. Lila: Why would I do that, Adrien? Adrien: Because we're friends, aren't we?

Minor Chloe rant incoming:

This is yet another situation where it would be so much better for the show if Adrien had actually done something to help Chloe change and succeeded. If he did that, thought it was a good path for everyone, and then tried to do the same thing for Lila, then this could have been a really great way to set him up for dealing with his dad. To teach him that you can only help people who want to be better without having everyone he tries to help stay "evil" as that's pretty depressing. As-is, we've literally seen him say that Chloe will never change so why does he believe that Lila can change? They're not portraying him as an optimist, they're portraying him as delusional. Terrible writing. Zero stars.

Rant over.

By the way, the above quote was the 24th episode of season three, roughly two seasons before Adrien's apology to Marinette. If he's viewing Lila as the devil here, then this should be where we get that apology. Or Adrien should approach this as him trying to make Lila better and Lila should play along, making Adrien think that he's right and that he's helping her change. Either approach would be better than the nonsense canon gave us.

In a well written show, this would all go down over the course of a single season or even just a few episodes. As-is, the season five apology feels like too little too late. What little kid is going to be able to follow this "character arc" and learn the lesson that Adrien maybe sort of learned? Casual viewers will likely not even remember that Adrien gave Marinette bad advice back at the start of season three because why would they? This is not how you do a good subplot. It's almost as drawn out as the Gabriel plot and that's insane! A subplot is supposed to be a short story within the story so that things feel like they're moving forward.

[away-at-late-dawn]

What Halloween Activities Each Slasher Likes

Summary: It's that time of year again, and the slashers are celebrating All Hallow's Eve! What's something that they enjoy doing for the holiday (besides killing)?

Characters: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, The Sawyer Family, Ghostface, The Sinclair Brothers, Carrie White, and Brahms Heelshire

A/N: halloween is gonna be in a few days irl, and i was inspired enough to make headcanons for the occasion! hope you enjoy!

☆*.🎃•.° (turn the page)

Michael: Trick-or-Treating!

like many writers here, i also think he has a sweet tooth

and since he's the one who gets the holiday name for his movies, i think he'd be a fan of one of its most popular pastimes

seeing as he's over 21 now, he can't exactly trick-or-treat like he did at 6 years old, so he has to get creative. luckily, he doesn't have much difficulty in breaking people's windows. or stealing candy. guess it's tricks and treats for this guy (hehehe)

even without trick-or-treating, he gets to drive around the neighborhood and see the decorations. he's got a mental tier list of which household has the best taste in decor

his preferred candy can change randomly, though this year so far it's been whoppers.

Jason: Campfire Stories!

as the mosquitoes die down and the moon glows a pale yellow, jason likes to do spooky-themed activities to get in the halloween spirit, especially camping activities! some of them are fine with a single participant, but scary stories definitely need an audience, preferably besides his mother.

the unexplainable noises in the woods, the (maternal) forces from the great beyond, the unending anguish of the undead? he could easily figure out a story in just a few short minutes, kudos to his many, many personal experiences.

he's heard about the 100 ghost stories thing from japan and it sounds fun! lighting 100 candles and buying 100 candle holders sounds tedious, though, so just a campfire for now. it's already crackling atmospherically.

now, where to find people that his mother wouldn’t want him to kill…

The Sawyer Family: House Decorating!

it's not exactly the same as other families’ decorations (for one, they're completely free), but with some spare bones and some imagination, you can easily make your yard into a spooky cemetery. there's even a good collection of skulls and pelvises in a couple boxes in the attic!

nubbins suggested they use some extra skin to really “creepify” the exterior of the house, but they've been running out of leather, so maybe they'll do it next year.

after a long day of decorating the yard, the family made some nice brisket sandwiches with some eyeballs on the side to halloweenify it. it was very cute.

now, the family thinks as the thermometer reads 90°F, if only the weather would actually feel like fall…

Ghostface: Scary Movies! Or maybe egging houses

if they ask people what their favorite scary movie is, then they gotta have a good grasp of what movies there are

though streaming is fine, physical media is king. you can't really beat the aesthetic satisfaction of owning an entire shelf of vintage cassette tapes.

not gonna lie, they could arguably make quite a few high-quality video essays with what they know, and then they could use their shelf as their backdrop…

anyhow, they usually watch them based on date of release, that way they can really immerse themselves in the cultural context that each film came in. movies are cool like that

if they're feeling mischievous though, they often like to go about town and just absolutely ruin people's windows with raw eggs, just being a silly nuisance. then they can go back and continue watching hellraiser 4! no, they are not having a good time watching it

The Sinclair Brothers: Costumes!

it feels so much more festive when you get to dress up a whole town in halloween-y costumes! and bonus points for getting to coordinate all of them, too.

the plan is for everyone to dress up like victorian goth vampires, and the work ain't so bad, so far. the brothers are going through lace like crazy, though.

admittedly it does make the town seem more suspicious and almost uncanny or culty, but hey… sometimes you have to let loose and have fun

and if they manage to get a few more figures made in time, they could even be used in lots of holiday-themed setups, too! that way the town really feels alive (and convincing)

Carrie: Fall Sweets

her upbringing is extremely strict, so sadly she doesn't do much for halloween

but when she goes out for a walk in the town, she loves to check what pastries are at the windows and what budget baked goods are at the supermarket.

there's this lovely pie shop that shows off its freshest pumpkin pies every morning. they sell out quick!

but this morning, it wasn't quick enough for carrie to not get herself a slice. now she gets to sit at the window seat and catch up on her studies :D

Brahms: Pumpkin Carving!

very convenient for a man who has to live inside his house's walls. he won't have to go out of the house to do it (thank you grocery boy), and he can easily carve into the pumpkin when nobody's looking!

it was a bit hard figuring out what the design should be, but after some consideration brahms decided to try and carve out the face of his doll.

partway through he started regretting that decision… sculpting is so much harder than it looks. and then having to do it at night? why did he decide to do this, again?

but the morning he finished carving and returned to the walls in the kitchen, he overheard his caretaker talking to “him.” “Brahms, this is amazing!” and when he came back to look, the caretaker had carefully put a candle in it, illuminating his work.

he is now very happy with the design :)

[toriangeli]

I get the impression that the writers didn’t expect people to be that invested in Armand which is odd bc he’s a popular book character but. It almost seems to me like they thought everyone would be invested in Lestat and Louis only and they can do whatever with Armand. I still think he was well-written for the most part don’t get me wrong. However.

I think his motivations are muddled in this version of the story and it’s weird that he had no strong relationships to anyone all season. The Louis thing didn’t matter to either of them that much bc he was willing to let him die (weird), nothing with Daniel yet, didn’t seem very upset with the coven members dying and didn’t even seem to hate Claudia all that much?

I feel like they didn't think we'd love him if he was as much of a maniac as he was in the books? Crazy time to start worrying about what their audience thinks. ffs, Rolin talked about how bad they felt for Armand upon rereading the second half of book 1 and then didn't even quote the line that made them feel so bad for him in the first place (the thing about how he's done everything for Louis and Louis doesn't love him and seems totally dead to him).

He was definitely very attached to Louis, but Louis' lack of attachment to him and Daniel's utter contempt guided the audience's opinion a lot more than the softening of his terribleness. Even if it's not their intent, he comes across as the least favorite child. Lestat dropped Louis from the sky and gets a pass, but Armand did...what, exactly? Louis forgave him for playing a part with Claudia's death, but being willing to let Louis die was unforgivable, even after he pulled Louis out of the sun? And Rolin talked about how these were genuine attempts from Armand to be better, to be good to Louis, only to be met in 2.05 with the bleak understanding that none of it meant jack shit to Louis, it was all just a sign of Armand being a boring person who did boring things. "As empathetic as possible," says Rolin, but the actual audience is taking its cues from audience surrogate Daniel, whose opinion isn't based on Armand's experiences or even Louis' experiences, but his own. His entire take on the situation is centered around what Armand did to him, so he ignores anything that could actually make him see where Armand is coming from. He even calls his tragic backstory into question. And don't tell me Armand lied so much he deserved that. Nobody deserves it. Anyway, according to Rolin, Armand lied about two things: who saved Louis at the trial, and how involved he was in the trial itself, and all subsequent lies were covering up those two. Do you ever see Armand bringing up his tragic backstory when he isn't asked to do so? He plays victim about other things, sure, but never about that.

And frankly, some of the things he plays victim about, he has the right to be pissed about. It feels like nobody really grasps 2.05 with any sense of compassion for both Louis and Armand--it's always one or the other of them in total wrong. Either Louis is emotionally abusive during their fight, or Armand tortured and neglected him and made the whole situation about himself.

What if both things can be true, but we understand where they're both coming from? That's the thing about dark fiction: we can actually look critically at relationships like these and see nuance. It's not safe to do that in real life unless you're the therapist involved, but in fiction? We can actually look and see and think. Don't do that if you're in a toxic relationship irl, just get out.

Louis is using drugs to run away from something Armand could have prevented. There's kind of a karma in Armand being forced to be his caretaker. At the same time, I know what being the codependent in a relationship feels like, so...yes, Armand making the situation about himself makes a lot of sense because no situation is ever about himself. He drags Louis out of the sun, and we never talk about how traumatic that is for both of them. Rightly, the focus is on Louis, because Louis is the primary victim in the situation, but he's not the only one traumatized by his own suicide attempt. We, the audience, have the capacity to have empathy for them both, but we seldom do. Instead, we see Armand doing something wrong--the secondary victim demanding understanding from the primary one--and focus way too much on that instead of why.

People feel sorry for themselves because they're overcompensating for the fact that only they ever seem to validate their own experiences. Judging by some of Sam's attitude, I suspect the last person who told Armand "you went through something fucked up and it's okay to not be okay about it" was Marius. Right before the attempt, Louis actively invalidated some of the worst shit Armand ever went through, so sure. I obviously don't agree with Armand's actions in the aftermath, but the important thing is, I'd consider it shitty, shitty writing if the writers decided everyone should immediately be able to act rationally about this. That's not how people work. It's the opposite of how Armand should work. Armand is so poorly socialized, he doesn't know the unwritten social codes, or even why he does what he does. And any time someone calls him out, they can't seem to do so without invalidating completely unrelated traumas he's had.

You can say, "Oh, well, this season was Louis' story, so of course they focused on Louis' perspective," but here's the problem with that: we are not getting a The Vampire Armand season. It wouldn't make sense. The only two main characters who are in those flashbacks are Armand and Marius. That means sidelining almost every series regular for an entire season if they did a TVA season. If every POV character (Daniel, Louis, and Lestat) has total contempt for Armand, exactly when is the audience supposed to have things cleared up for them?