#inspired by that one image . you know the one

[im-a-broken-jar]

[First Image Description:

A tweet by Caelan Conrad @/caelanconrad that reads, "okay but this young trans guy singing about 'archeologists digging up trans skeletons' is exactly what i wanted to see today."

Video Description:

A tiktok of Sasha Allen, a transgender man and multitalented musician, sitting in front of the camera with a guitar. The tiktok is replying to a comment left by user Carteo.Cafe that reads, "we need the full song" Sasha begins the video by saying, "this goes out to transphobic mother fuckers that are like 'yeah and when they dig up your bones in a hundred years they'll find out your biologically female' shut the fuck up man! Shut up, Jesus." Before beginning to sing;

"One day when they find my bones in the ground, whoever 'they' are will say look what we found! A historical find, it's a relic of time, and they'll never attest that i don't know my mind. One day when they find my bones in the earth, they will not equate who i was to what I'm worth. And they'll find your bones, from the same frame of time, and they'll treat your bones just as they've treated mine. We're the same! We're the same! We're the same! We're the same, we're the same. One day when they come across my remains, they won't consider assumptions you've made. They will see me, not the things that you say. They will put up my bones in historic displays, and I'll be a symbol of what it all means to be human, to know the earth infinitely. And your bones are there too, we're both seen as art. It's ironic, the people can't tell us apart. We're the same! We're the same! We're the same! We're the same. And one day when they find my bones it'll be far in the future, like forty twenty three. You were so worried about me, i don't think that you noticed it. By then all the archeologists are transgender socialists. And it'll be determined, on the hill on which you will died, that in terms of history you were way off on the wrong side. I'll forgive you, with kindness, grace, and elegance. And dance for eternity with your stupid fucking right wing skeleton. Raaah!"

He gets up and says, "there." Before ending the video.

Second Image Description:

A digital comic based off of the above song. The first panel is an illustration of a buried skeleton that has been partially uncovered. Text reads, "one day when they find my bones in the ground, whoever they are will say," the next panel has someone in what looks similar to a hazmat suit, waving over another person thats wearing one while saying, "Look what we've found!" There's a bug inspired robot casting light over their shoulder, like a flashlight. Text reads, "a relic of time, a historical find." The next panel is a close up, more detailed illustration of the bones, a small transgender pride flag pin coming up from the dirt- the colors of which are from top to bottom, blue, pink, white, pink, and blue. Text reads, "and they'll never attest, that i don't know my mind. One day when they find my bones in the earth," a gloved hand is gently dusting the bones. "They will not equate who i was, to what I'm worth." The next panel is the same future archeologist and robot, appearing to be talking to someone over face time on a tablet.

Third Image Description:

A continuation of the comic. Text reads, "and they'll find your bones from the same frame of time," next to a panel in which the archeologist is looking up in surprise. The next panel is a gloved hand dusting bones with a smaller brush. "And they'll treat your bones just as they've treated mine." Text over an illustration of bones reads, "we're the same, we're the same, we're the same, we're the same." The next panel is a hand touching a sign that reads, "human remains. Please treat with respect." A sign in front of that one reads, "new exhibit." Text beside the panel says, "one time when they come across my remains, they won't consider assumptions you've made." The next panel is someone wearing a jumpsuit, glasses, and what looks like a tiara, looking proudly down at the sign. "They'll see me, not the things that you say. They'll put my bones in historic displays." With people walking through a museum.

Fourth Image Description:

A continuation of the comic. "I'll be a symbol of what it all means, to be human, to know the earth infinitely." The next panel is someone wearing headphones, watching footage of the moon landing. "And your bones are there too, we're both seen as art." The next panel is of multiple pairs of shoes standing on the ground, around a plaque reading, "earthlings circa two thousand C.E." text over the panel reads, "it's ironic." "The people," the next image is two skeletons laying side by side and facing opposite directions, plants growing around and with them. Text over it reads, "can't tell us apart." Text at the bottom of the comic reads, "comic by Chekhov in twenty twenty three, lyrics by Sasha Allen."

/End I.D.]

[cutehoons02]

Kiss me, don't say no!

*pairing: pervy idol Jake x writer tumblr Girl

*trope: frat boy x good girl

*synopsis: What if your favorite idol and bias discovered your Tumblr account where you wrote cute and adorable one-shot about him but also spicy? You always dreamed of going to a fan meeting of the Enhypen but what would happen if Jake had written for days in anonymous pretending to be a fan of the enhypen and then made you realize that you were writing with him and he would want to recreate those one-Spicy shot you wrote about him?

*tags: Lots of tension, fluffy, Jake slowly becomes more and more obsessed by the protagonist, white lies, possession, jealousy, the protagonist is a pretentious shy, they are both perverts, inspired by one-shot and reading, manipulation, masturbation (f.receives) touch, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) +18,pet names (good girl,angel) (jakey)

Sunghoon pt Heeseung pt

(English is not my native language)

8k (🎀)

Jake was bored. And when Jake was bored, he could only do two things: annoy the group members until he threw a pillow in his face... or get lost in the meanders of social.

Lying on the bed of his hotel room, with hair still wet after a shower and phone in hand, he was lazy on Twitter until he saw a trade of a fan account on him that posted one-shots that could be read on Tumblr and the top 10 and there were for each one-shot link and when he entered the page of Tumblr it jumped out at him: #Enhypen x Reader.

Curious, clicked and his timeline immediately filled with scenes, gifs, fanart, and especially fanfiction about them. He was used to seeing the name of Heeseung or Sunghoon at the top of those charts, but when his eyes fell on #Jake x Reader, his interest lit up instantly.

And then he saw it.

A blog with a cute icon and a sweet username that had fanfiction number one: "Vampire Jake: My Predator".

He just had to slide a few lines and feel a shiver running down his back.

"His red eyes shone in the darkness as his warm body trapped me against the wall. His breath was irregular, the canines were touching my bare neck while his fingers were gripping my life with an almost animalistic possessiveness."

Jake swallowed it. For a moment, his shy side pushed him to close everything, but his curiosity - and, okay, maybe something else - prevented him from looking away.

He continued reading, the heartbeat in his chest. The way you described it... the sweet tone, but also incredibly spicy... He made him blush to the ears. You had written about him as a dangerously seductive vampire, someone unable to follow for the desire to taste his prey: his girlfriend. Is it the worst? It almost seemed that you knew him.

When he finished reading the one-shot he thought: Wow this girl seems to know me so well for just being a fan of mine!

Then, scrolling through the other stories in your profile and seeing the number of likes and comments was quite famous, he realized that this was not an isolated case.

"Boyfriend Jake (But he’s a Pervert)"

"Golden Retriever Jake (But he’s Obsessed with You)"

"Jake Sim and the Thousand Excuses to Touch His Girlfriend"

He almost laughed. Almost because his head was now full of images... and questions. Who the hell were you? And how did you write such things about him with such confidence?

And with a clever smile, he had an idea: Jake had always been the type to be carried away by instinct. And at that moment, his instinct was only one thing: to find out who was behind the blog.

And maybe... talk a little with you, he entered the message section but first, he had to create an account that looked like the account of any fan of Enhypen and at this point himself. In the image he put a photo of him taken from Twitter and created the name with his initials and the year of his birth "J_S02" was perfect because you would have understood that he was a fan.

Message from "J_02" (aka Jake, undercover mode: activated)

Hey! I know you probably get a lot of messages, but I had to ask... why are you writing ONLY about Jake? I read your story and it’s nice but you seem to know Jake better than yourself!

Jake bit his fingernails and rubbed the towel in his hair to relax, he wanted to talk about it to his friends like Jay or Sunghoon but what would he say to him: Hey I found a fan of ours writing one-shot spicy about me, and out of curiosity I wrote a message?

Nah they would have made fun of him when he waited madly for your message and after a while arrived.

Answer from you: Oh? Another jealous Jake fan? 👀

J_S02: No no, I swear I’m not jealous! (Maybe a little hahaha) But come on, don’t the other members deserve some love? I saw your master and you only have stories about Jake

You: Jake is special, I follow him from I-land. He has that adorable golden retriever look but with a dangerous side that makes him perfect for any scenario... sometimes I take inspiration from their video clips or their songs

J_S02: Dangerous? But he seems the type that gets excited for a puppy! Have you seen how mini it is when he sees any animal but especially Layla?

You: Of course, I know that it has a sweet side! When he came out that vlog with Layla was adorable but who says you do not hide a more... spicy side?

Jake laughed when he read that message, certainly, it was not innocent as they painted some fans but did not think that some fans could think of it as a boy a little perverted to say it all.

J_S02: Okay, okay, point in your favor. But then... how do you write about him in so much detail? Do you know him by chance or is it all in your imagination?

You: Maybe yes, maybe no. 😉 But sorry, why all this interest? You wrote me because I don’t write about other members but I think seeing also your profile photo that you are a fan, right?

J_S02: Let’s put it like this: I would like to see if your descriptions are accurate and yes, I’m a fan of Jake and the Enhypen too, but I’m a boy and I don’t know if this thing could bother you...

You: Oh, finally I met some male fans of Enhypen!! Returning to the message from earlier and if I find that I have perfectly grasped his character? And that Jake could be both the cub boy and "Golden retriever" as the members describe him but also with a bit of a not-so-innocent guy side?

Jake ran his hand through his thick hair and shook his head, god was so fun to write you especially when he wanted to know someone or maybe have a girl to talk to about these things but the Idol life had strict rules, and didn't want to burst dramas especially now that they were at the peak of their careers and with a thousand things at stake.

J_S02: Then I would say that... you should give me some more details. You know, for "research purposes".

You: Tsk tsk, what a pervert. Just like the Jake of my stories...

Jake loved how you imagined it and maybe that Jake you described so well was not only the Jake of your stories but also the one in reality!

The conversation with you on Tumblr didn’t stop, and every message he received made him smile and at the same time put him in a more complicated position. " Who was this girl?" he wondered. "What would she think if she knew who I was?".

He could not reveal his identity to you, and the most fascinating part of the conversation was just that. He felt like he knew the secret, while you were completely unaware that you were talking to one of the ENHYPEN.

Meanwhile, he kept on responding to your messages, in a friendly and curious tone, but always maintaining his "normal identity".

J_S02: I wanted to ask you this weekend will you go to one of the two concerts they do in Seoul and the fan meeting?" Jake wrote, pretending to be just a normal guy who was curious to meet a fan.

You: Of course, I will. And also at the fan meeting on Monday!

You’ll be there? Interesting thought Jake when he read that you were going to see him at the concert but also the formatting, could somehow find out who you were and understand who was behind this account

J_S02: It must be a big event for you! Don’t you think it would be strange to meet one of your favorite stars live? Don’t you think it might be a little awkward? I will not be at the concert because I work but at the fan meeting I will be

After a few seconds, the phone vibrated with a new answer.

You: Oh, no! I don’t think it will be weird... maybe a little bit exciting, since I follow I-land, I dream of seeing them sing and dance live. Although I’m a bit shy, I think it would be a dream to see one of my idols so close and I can’t wait for it to be Monday; however, we could meet on Monday at the meeting!"

Jake, reading that answer, smiled and felt puzzled. Something was fascinating about the way you spoke. You looked so genuine and completely unaware of who he was.

J_S02: It seems to me that you are a really big fan, what are you preparing for the most: the concert or the fan meeting? Anyway, it would be perfect if we met at the meeting

The response came in a flash, with a line of enthusiasm that made Jake smile.

You: Both, honestly! But what excites me the most is that after the concert I’ll go to the fan meeting and, well... I guess I will see him after 4 years in the flesh! It will be a unique opportunity. I can’t wait! Well perfect then on Monday morning we agree on where to find us, I will be with my friends:)

Jake holds a smile. He felt in a sense excited by the thought that this girl would soon meet the Enhypen and especially him, But the thing that intrigued him most was how she would react when she realized he was one of the members she was feeling with.

J_S02: Oh wow, you seem excited. I wonder how you’ll react when you’re face to face with the Enhypen and Jake!

He wrote, but with a subtle play on words, pretending not to be the star she loved so much.

J_S02: We should find a way to recognize ourselves if you want to meet me at the meeting, I guess there will be a lot of people.

You: I’ll send you a picture of my outfit on the day of the fan meeting! So it will be easier to find us 😊

Jake smiled and now the game could be even more interesting.

The two concerts in Seoul were crazy, They sang and danced to thousands of fans and everyone was happy with their performances Jake was excited because he knew that in that flood of people, you were also there and he couldn’t wait to write you and see you tomorrow at the fan meeting.

Jake, still hiding behind his anonymous profile, found himself typing a message right after the end of the concert. He wanted to know everything.

J_S02: So, how was the concert? Did you have fun?

It took a while for him to get an answer, but when the phone vibrated he found a long message that made him smile.

You: Oh my God, it was AMAZING. I’m still without a voice! I screamed so much that tomorrow I probably won’t even be able to talk 😂.

Jake laughed at himself, imagining you all euphoric and out of breath after watching the show.

You: The performances were crazy! They sang all my favorite songs and I did not stop to film. I have a thousand videos and photos, literally.

J_S02: And did you get all of them or just your favorite as well as Jake Sim? 😏

You: Um... let’s say my film is 60% Jake and 40% the rest of the group.

Jake shook his head laughing. So you had eyes only for him, huh? And he decided to go a little further.

J_S02: And how was Jake live? Did he look at you at least once?

You answered immediately with a message accompanied by a video.

You: I caught him right now! Look, for a second he looked at me!"

Jake opened the video and concentrated. During all the chaos of lights, fans, and screaming, he managed to see himself on stage... and then, for a moment, he saw himself turn his gaze to the camera.

He made up his mind trying to remember that moment but there were thousands of fans that night and the thought that you had immortalized that micro-second among so many people gave him shivers.

J_S02: Wow. He looked at you. Do you remember what you thought at that moment?

You: That I would have melted away instantly. And that I was making mental films, because imagine if he had seen me"

Jake laughed. Oh, if you only knew... that he had seen you and was also writing to you

You kept writing to each other for a while, until Jake, without even thinking about it, asked you:

J_S02: What are your favorite songs?

You: It’s hard to choose just a few! I love Shout Out, Moonstrock, One in a Billion, Criminal Love, and the whole "Dark Blood" album but let’s say I love songs where Jake’s voice is strong. And also... I miss the blond Jake when I saw him blonde for the first time I thought I was in love with him haha. Even as a brunette he’s fine but blond>>>

Jake when he read that he liked the blond version wrote to his hairdresser staff that tomorrow before the fan meeting wanted to make it blonde that was a lot that did not dye his hair

Without thinking, he wrote to her:

J_S02: Well, at the fan meeting you will see him blond again.

On the other hand, you took a few seconds to answer.

You: Wait... what? It’s impossible! There is no comeback planned, no special event. He couldn’t change his look so randomly.

Jake bit his lip. He had just said too much, cabbage had been careful until now you should not get caught up in the emotions.

You: Wait, how do you know?

Jake cursed himself mentally. But why did he miss that sentence?!

J_S02: Oh... ehm... I meant that maybe it could be a surprise. You never know. I was just kidding! 😅"

You seemed to accept his answer, but he knew the damage was done. The problem? The next day he would really dye his hair blonde before the fan meeting and scrolling on Twitter and Tik Tok had read everywhere on social media how fans liked that look on him, and eventually he decided to do it but now... He felt that he had done it for one more reason.

You were excited, the fan meeting was about to start and you already heard the music coming from the theater and the various voices of the members; you had spent the morning preparing yourself, choosing carefully his outfit: a white t-shirt with small pink bows, low-waisted jeans that let a thread of skin, loose hair and Adidas Samba on the feet. Nothing too flashy, but cute enough to feel comfortable waiting in line, you got a message.

J_S02: So, are you ready?

You: More than ready! I’m already inside the arena, soon I’ll enter the fan meeting room!

J_S02: "How’s your outfit? I want to understand how you are dressed so I try to find you."

You: Mh, I have a little T-shirt with pink bows, low waist jeans, the Adidas Samba and loose hair

After a few seconds, Jake responded with a photo.

It was a slightly blurred image, taken from below, but you could see clearly: a red sweatshirt and torn jeans.

You: Wow, mysterious as always. Where are we?

J_S02: Inside the fan meeting. But I’m sure you’ll recognize me right away.

You wrinkled your forehead for a moment in what sense would you recognize him immediately? You sent around to observe all the few males that there were at the fan meeting but none had a red sweatshirt and it was strange because it was an access color and you should recognize it immediately.

You: Um, I’m already inside, but I don’t see anyone with a red sweatshirt and ripped jeans... 👀"

Jake: Wait till you get into the main hall.

You sighed, thinking he was teasing you and finally, the line came forward. With a heart full of joy, you entered the room where the Enhypen were sitting next to each other, waiting to chat with the fans and time seemed to slow down.

You saw them, all seven. The faces you knew so well, the guys you followed for years, the guys you could see grow up in recent years and watch them record after record with their songs and performances but when your gaze reached the bottom of the line... your breath stuck in your throat.

Jake was crazy alive: His hair was blonde, fluffy, and slightly ruffled, the perfect face, the smile on his lips but it wasn’t his appearance that made you tremble. It was his outfit: a red sweatshirt, and ripped jeans, exactly those of the photo, and the world around you seemed to stop for a few seconds while your brain tried to put together the pieces.

Jake... It was him... He was "J_S02". You thought he was just a fan but instead you.

You were written with Jake Sim. You sent him your videos at the concert. You told him how you would dress. And, most importantly... Jake read your fan fiction about him. You wanted to disappear and run away from the fan meeting but you couldn’t go back and the heat went up to your face so fast that you feared to faint.

What about Jake?

Jake was looking at you with a clever little grin, eyes slightly closed as if he was having a bit too much fun at your reaction, and then slowly winked at you and you saw him for a few seconds pulling out of his pocket a phone and you felt your vibrating.

J_S02: Surprise. 😉

And in that instant, you realized one thing was fundamental you were in trouble.

You stuck your phone in your jeans with a nervous gesture and your heart was pounding, you tried to stay calm, to treat that fan meeting as a normal experience. With the other members, you were perfectly at ease.

Jungwon had made a nice joke about your shirt, Jay had shown you a magic trick, and Heeseung had been incredibly sweet to you but when it was Jake’s turn ... Everything changed.

You sat in front of him, your heart pounding in your ears and you couldn’t even look at his face. It was too much: too absurd. Too surreal. Too much of him.

Jake looked at you with a hint of a smile, fingers thumping read on the table, and then, without warning, he took your hands, and contact with his hand made you feel too real.

He approached slightly, lowering his voice so that only you could hear him.

«Hello, Y/n.

God, your name said from his lips made your heart beat even faster and you clenched your lips, but before you could say anything, Jake bowed his head and his smile became more provocative.

«Or should I say... writer of spicy tales?"

A heat wave went up from your neck to your cheeks. Oh no. No, no.

You cleared your throat, retracting his hands with a quick gesture but he was faster than you and put them inside you in his big hands and squeezed them slightly.

"Stop." Jake raised a slouch and started to laugh slightly

«Why should I? It’s not my fault if you spent days writing spicy things about me!

You felt the fire rising in your stomach. You were angry, angry with him for deceiving you, angry with yourself for not realizing it before, angry because... damn, it was even more fascinating live.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered, finally taking your hands off his and crossing your arms on his chest.

Jake leaned against the back of his chair, looking at you with that look that seemed to be light inside.

«Oh, so you’ve got the wrong idea about me all these years? Did you think I was more... sweet?"

Where was the sweet, sunny, awkward Jake you always imagined? Where was the human golden retriever who made millions of fans beat their hearts?

What you had in front of you was a completely different Jake, maybe... more like the one you described in your stories.

He looked down at your shirt for a second, then slowly went up to your eyes. «Cute bows on the mesh."

You felt burning with embarrassment, especially because, as he spoke,

He had to stop it immediately with you, for you that was not a game was a dream that had been realized to see all 7 live but slowly was turning into a nightmare.

"Jake, stop," you hissed. "That’s not fair. You pretended to be an ordinary fan!" Jake raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if he was amused by your indignation.

«I repeat, I am not the one in error."

He looked at you with that damn arrogant grin you had never seen on him before.

«You’re the one who writes hot stories about me."

You felt yourself dying. You wanted to sink underground and never come out again.

"I... Not "You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat and Jake tilted his head even more, his look was amused but there was something more.

«What is it? Are you ashamed to have me before you now?"

YES. CURSED YES. But you would never admit it.

"That’s not the point!" you slammed slowly, trying to ignore the heat that was coming down your face.

Jake leaned his head closer and stood there, a few inches away from you, with that air of someone who had just found his new favorite pastime: to make fun of you.

«You know what?" he said, crossing his arms and staring at you with an almost dangerous smile. «I was intrigued by those stories."

You’ve been peeking. "W-what is it?!"

«Yes. We should talk about it better, don’t you think?"

"Talk about what?!" you said with grace that they were on fire and you could not look at him anymore but you looked from everything except him and hoped that the staff called you to send you away and Jake came closer, his eyes glued to yours.

«Of all you’ve written about me." And in that instant, you understood something very, very clearly. Jake Sim would not leave you alone.

Days had passed from the fan meeting and your life was back to calm, you went to university, studied, and went out with your friends to downtown Seoul or near the river thrusts, when you had time you read new one-shots and in your drafts there were some already set but you did not dare to publish any because Jake knew of your existence and even if he had not written since that day you always had the anxiety to receive a message.

But on the other hand, Jake saw your Instagram profile, thanks to the list he had found after the fan meeting with all the names and surnames written and it was a breeze to find your Ig profile carefully, eyes that were shining with curiosity... e desire had found you and would not let you be for long.

Your photos told him a story he already liked too much.

Shots of travel with friends, always smiling, always radiant, Photos at concerts, immersed in the crowd, your eyes illuminated by emotion. Outfit as a good girl, but with the right touch of mischief.

Jake ran his hand through his blond hair, biting the inside of his cheek. You were the perfect representation of his ideal girlfriend and now that he had seen your world... he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Then, a notification brought him back to reality.

🔔 Y/nWritings has posted a new story on Tumblr.

A shiver of excitement passed through him. Finally, he wanted too much to see what you had written about him until now you had only imagined it but now that you had seen him live and even heard him talking with you you could describe it much better; opened the post, sure that she would find a new story about him but her smile is turned off when she read the title.

"Heeseung x Reader - After the Fan Meeting..."

Jake wiped his eyelids slightly because he had read wrong but when he opened the story in a hurry, eyes running through the lines with growing annoyance and a sense of jealousy crept into his chest.

That story wasn’t about him. It was about Heeseung and it wasn’t just any story. It was spicy.

Jake clenched his jaw, the blood boiling in his veins. But what the fuck... he was your favorite. He was the one who had made her crazy for days not heeseung. He was the one who invaded your thoughts and your Tumblr profile with him as the protagonist, not Heeseung!

A dark smirk curled his lips, if you wanted to play with him, then he would play but his rules and win at any cost.

You were lying in bed with the computer playing one of your favorite TV shows in the background and you were relaxed in your room until a notification that you knew belonged to made you shudder.

J_S02: I want to see you.

You pulled yourself up with wide eyes, no, it couldn’t be you had ignored it for days, you tried to forget what happened at the fan meeting but you knew that sooner or later he would rewrite you and maybe you played with the wrong person because fatality had rewritten you on the same day you published a one-shot but this one-shot had not as protagonist him but another member of Enhypen.

You: Don’t write me anymore.

J_S02: Are you sure?

You bit your lip. Yes, damn it, you didn’t want to do anything with him anymore;

You were about to type another message when an Instagram notification blocked your heartbeat.

🔔 J_S02 has viewed your story and started following you

Wait... what?! In what sense did he follow me? How the hell did he find my profile and panic took over?

J_S02: Look out the window.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you slowly got up from the bed and approached the window with the phone in your hands and when you looked out... your world stopped. Jake was there, leaning, with his red sweatshirt and the usual ripped jeans, hands tucked in his pockets but this time he had a black mask covering his nose you knew it was him and you heard him talking.

«Now you still want to say no?»

The voice was low, slightly hoarse. Damn dangerous and you felt the heat coming to your face. He was crazy?!

Open the window, heart in throat. "What the hell are you doing here?!" You hissed quietly, afraid someone might hear it

Jake tilted his head, his smile amused. «I wanted to see you.»

You stared at him incredulously. "You can’t... I mean... how did you find me?!"

He shrugged. «I have my famous methods.»

You pale because it was creepy, yet damn charming.

"I can’t get off."

Jake sighed, pulling out the phone. "So I’ll get up.»

"No, I’m not!" exclaimed in panic but he was already gone, You ran to your door and leaned until you heard footsteps and slowly opened the door and saw Jake climbing the stairs and slowly taking off his black mask and stared at him with your heart beating like crazy. He was a fool. But an incredibly sexy fool.

You sighed when you felt its slightly amber scent invade your spaces. "What do you want from me, Jake?"

He looked you straight in the eye.

«Gosh, you’re giving your favorite idol warmth! I want to know why you wrote about Heeseung.»

You flashed your eyes when you heard the last part of the sentence. "Wait... are you here for this?!"

Jake nodded. «Explain it. Why didn’t you write about me?»

You put your hand in your hair and were seriously incredulous about the situation you were living in. "I didn’t think it was a problem."

«It is,» said Jake, with a dangerous smile and you saw him approaching you

Was he jealous?

He watched you for a few seconds and put his hand in the door of your room which was like a shield that could protect you from him at that moment.

«Can I. Can I come in?»

"Jake, I’m..." He stared at you intensely. «I will do nothing to you, Y/n. I just... want to talk.»

You bit your lip, you knew you shouldn’t but damn... you wanted to find out how far he would go and with a sigh, grabbed the door and opened it, Jake at first is surprised but at the same time he is satisfied with your choice, and when he came in he got closer to you and said to you in a low voice

«Good girl," You were fucked. Closed the door of your apartment with too much heat, what the hell was Jake doing in his house?!

Jake had already gone into the small shared apartment with your friends, looking around with a funny, almost arrogant air. He stood at the door of his room and looked at it with a mischievous smile.

"Can I come in?» he asked with a friendly polite tone and you exclaimed "NO!"

Trying to prevent him from entering but it was quite late, Jake had already turned the handle and had entered and you bit your lip, while he watched everything with attentive eyes and after a moment of silence, he whistled softly.

"Wow,» he commented, letting a laugh run away as she looked around. "This is a good girl’s room. I did not expect anything less.»

His fingers touched a row of perfectly neat vinyl over the bookcase. His eyes slid to the hanging lights, polaroids stuck to the wall, the Enhypen albums neatly stacked on the desk but the thing that made him smile even more was the teddy bear lying on the bed.

"Oh? You sleep with a stuffed animal?»

"It’s not your business!" you slouched, crossing your arms at your chest. Jake grinned and, without thinking twice, threw himself on the bed as if it were his. He reached out nonchalantly, hands behind his head, body relaxed as if he were in his dorm with the other boys.

"Comfortable,» he commented, slowly sliding his hand along the edge of the blankets and then looking up at you, with that air he knew very well to drive you crazy.

"I was expecting something more... forbidden, you know? Seeing the things you write about me.» You came closer by snapping, grabbing him by the wrist in an attempt to pull him out of bed.

"Get off now!" exclaimed, trying to keep a steady tone, even if you were going completely tilt inside Jake laughed softly, but did not move.

"You shouldn’t be here, you’re a liar! I thought I was talking to an Enhypen fan, not you!"

Jake slowly lifted himself on his elbows and, with a fluid movement, grabbed your wrist, reversing the grip. His hand was warm and steady, the grip firm but not intrusive, and came slightly closer, your faces were dangerously close.

"I know,» he muttered with an enchanting smile. "Surely I played a dirty game with you...»

Jake tilted his head to the side, his eyes shining with pure fun.

"But tell me, Y/n, who is the one crazy between us?»

"What the hell do you mean?" Jake slowly let go of your wrist but remained close, his voice low and dangerously sweet.

"You write dirty stories about me.» Jake let himself be left again on the bed, making himself comfortable. " One-shot extremely spicy,» he continued, playing with the edge of your shirt. "Write about me that I do things that are definitely... forbidden.»

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the liar, trying to keep your voice still.

Jake laughed. "Oh, you know. I read it all, Y/n. Everything.»

You stared. "Are you a stalker?!"

"No, princess, I would say that I am the protagonist of your dirty fantasies.»

"Stop it!"

"Why? Does it embarrass you? » he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Strange. You didn’t seem so shy when you wrote about me whispering obscene things in your ear.» You covered your face with your hands, mortified and Jake laughed again, but then his look became more intense.

"Tell me something,» he said, lowering his voice a little. "You’re so obsessed with me, why the hell did you write a one-shot about Heeseung?»

You were stuck for a moment. "What?" Jake crossed his arms behind his head, looking at you with a slightly annoyed air.

"I read everything. All your stories. And the fact that the last one was on Heeseung bothered me.» you stared at him, incredulous. " Did he give you... trouble?"

Jake sighed, sliding a hand through his blonde hair.

"Yes. Because I thought you were all about me.»

You bit your lower lip, trying to hide a smile. Was he... jealous?

"What does it matter? Maybe Heeseung is my true bias," you teased him, tilting his head to one side.

"Oh, so you like guys like Heeseung?»

You shrugged, trying to keep a neutral expression. "Maybe."

Jake gently grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Don’t say stupid things,» he murmured in a low voice. "I know very well that you always had eyes for me.»

Jake smiled, satisfied with your reaction, then stooped down again to you, his face a few inches from his.

«Then tell me, Y/n...» he touched your face with his fingers, almost distractedly. «Who is the crazier one of us?"

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating too fast, your breath too short, the skin hot where Jake’s fingers had touched it. What was he going to say? That yes, you were obsessed with him? That every scene you wrote for yourself seemed so real in your head that you lost sleep?

Jake tilted his head to one side, looking at her with that half-amused, half-dangerous smile. Then, without warning, he touched your cheek with his fingers.

«Here it’s all real, Y/n,» he muttered, his voice lower, deeper. «There is no game in action, no anonymous behind a screen. It’s just you and me.»

You felt a shiver run down your back. Why did he have to speak that way? With that tone that seemed like a promise and a threat together?

"You’re impossible," you slammed, trying to step back. "And a lying asshole, too, by the way!" Jake laughed softly, but in his eyes, there was something different. Something more intense and before you could go away, he grabbed you by the wrist and, with a fluid movement, pulled you over, and a moment later, you were riding on him.

"Jake!" you flapped your eyes, trying to move you but he held you with a steady hand on your back, holding you exactly where he wanted.

«Tell me something,» he muttered, looking you straight in the eye. «That scene you wrote... is how you imagined it» Jake lowered himself slightly, bringing his face closer to yours.

«Was this the position?» he whispered, his warm breath touching your skin, you could say nothing.

In the end, unable to sustain his gaze, you annuided and Jake smiled, but in his eyes, there was a predatory glow.

«Good girl», he whispered. And then without realizing it, he crashed his lips into yours, the kiss was not sweet. Or rather, it was for half a second.

His lips were resting on yours with a deceitful delicacy, as if they wanted to make fun of you, as if he was giving you time to run away but you did not run away and Jake understood it immediately.

His hands slowly slid down your back and then squeezed it harder, as if he wanted to taste you all the way. The kiss became deeper, more famished, and territorial.

You instinctively clung to Jake’s sweatshirt, fingers tucked in the fabric as you felt his body warm wherever he touched you. Jake wasn’t just kissing you, he was calling you.

Every movement of his lips against yours was decided, every touch of his hands on your curves was sure, every breath mixed with his said one thing: You are mine.

When you pulled away for a second, you were slightly panting, your cheeks burning, your chest rising and falling too quickly but Jake didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

«You will never write anything about anyone again,» he muttered, kissing you again.

Groaning against his lips, unable to resist him Jake smiled in the kiss and pressed you even more against himself.

«Only on me,» he whispered against your mouth, biting your lower lip slowly before letting it go.

«Got it?»

You couldn’t answer, too lost in him, in his smell, in his touch, in the way he seemed determined to leave his mark on you. You nodded your head and he pressed you even closer to him and said

«Good girl,» gently caressing your side. When you came off again you covered your face with your hands, mortified by the situation and Jake laughed softly, his breath still irregular.

«So? Will you write about Heeseung again?» He asked with a dangerous smirk, you gave him a pat on the shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that I was still sitting on top of him.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered. Jake laughed again, brushing his blond hair.

«I know, princess. But you know what the worst part is?»

You looked at him with curiosity. "What?"

Jake took your chin between two fingers and forced you to look at it.

«Now that I have kissed you, I have no intention of stopping here.»

You missed the breath and Jake came closer, his eyes burning.

«And this time, angel...» he touched your lower lip with his thumb.

«It will no longer be just your fantasy. Then, tell me Angel...» his voice was a rough whisper as he slowly caressed your back with his fingers. «That famous one-shot in which I was a vampire... what was the exact scene?»

"I don’t... I don’t know," you tried to answer, but Jake shook his head with a smirk.

«Oh no, you know very well,» you muttered, bowing your head as his hands slid down your waist, making you shiver. «I read it all, remember?»

You felt his cheeks burn and Jake came even closer, letting his warm breath touch your skin.

«The vampire,» he continued, with a low and deep voice, «takes the girl in his arms... holds her close to him...» And meanwhile, Jake recreated every movement. He pulled his hair to one side...» Jake did it. The tapered fingers gently picked your hair, revealing its bare neck. «... and start kissing her,» Jake ended, finally pressing his lips on your skin.

The first kiss was slow, almost innocent, but it was nothing more than a deception.

Jake continued to leave a trail of slow, warm kisses down his neck, the touch of his lips so light that it gave you the creeps. But then, suddenly, he sucked slightly at the skin and made a little surprised noise.

«That’s how you described it, wasn’t it? » he whispered in a low, husky voice.

You couldn’t answer it was impossible and Jake continued, alternating kisses and sucking, leaving a trail of marks on his fair skin. As if he wanted to mark it and then, without warning, he bit you.

A slight bite barely hinted at, but it was enough to give you a sound that had never come out of his lips before.

"J-Jakey..." moaned softly, clinging to him and Jake froze for a second. That nickname on your lips? Damn.

You felt his breath getting heavier, something in him had changed and it squeezed you even more.

«Y/n,» he muttered, returning to your neck, the voice more raucous than before. «Say it again.»

You shook your head, embarrassed and Jake said to you: «You will say it, because from this moment on, every sound that comes out of your mouth will be mine and you will moan my name.»

You were anxious when Jake continued his torturing game, alternating deep kisses, bites, and suckers; it seemed that he did not want to let you escape.

Your hands clenched in the fabric of his sweatshirt with legs slightly trembling around his hips.

«If you keep on like that...» Jake mumbled against your neck, his voice scratched by the birthmark, «I will not stop, angel.»

He gave you a second of his nickname: Angel.

Jake took a break, looking for his gaze. «Tell me what you want», he said with burning eyes.

You stared at him, then you did the only thing that you could do at that moment. You kissed him. A hungry, desperate kiss, without any hesitation and Jake moaning softly against your mouth, almost lost it altogether.

"I want to continue," you said softly, and Jake stared at you for a moment. «Good girl,» he muttered, kissing you again and gently making you lie in your bed and he looked at you this time with a look full of lust but also of sweetness and respect for you.

Jake slipped his hands on your hips and stroked those fucking bows you had in your shirt and wanted to tell you that at the fan meeting, he would want to touch you but maybe it was better not, Because otherwise you would be scared to know all that he had thought when he saw you live that day.

Grunts against your neck, sinking her teeth into a new area of skin and sucking where she had previously gently bit you «All my fucking», repeats, squeezing your hips tighter and rubbing up into your still fully covered pants and in your center ever closer to him, his lips separate from your neck with a loud, moist snap and connect to yours with enthusiasm, You pulled his hair slightly when you felt that he had added tongue and were rubbing up and down with your bodies.

"Jake" whispered with his lips as he looked into his eyes as if he wanted to reproduce all those scenes you had written with him as the protagonist, He touched your pajama shorts and with one movement pulled down both your pants and your panties and you did not expect this gesture and shivered in feeling your hot excited area but at the same time the temperature of the room that was cool.

Jake leaned slightly down and looked at your pussy which was already excited by the kisses, the lollipops he gave you, and the stimulation of rubbing up and down; «You’re a disaster here», comments, eyes lit up with joy as he sees you slightly wiggling in embarrassment and without wasting time slips his fingers and starts caressing your folds, the fingers that slip between your excitement with embarrassing ease.

«Fuck, you were just waiting for this, look ready for me!» His deep voice vibrated against your skin as he pressed his lips against your thigh. A small sigh fell from your lips as his tongue split your folds before wrapping her lips around your clitoris, sucking greedily and gently.

A high-pitched whimper escaped from your lungs as he clung back to your clitoris, his teeth brushing the little bundle of nerves, leaving you breathless. "Jake-Jakey!" you cursed, the hand flew to your mouth when he added two fingers at once, widening your walls even further.

Jake chuckled at you, savoring the way your thighs had begun to shake around his head. He knew you were close; you needed a little more to get there.

«Cum for me, baby; let me taste you on my tongue like a good girl.» He tubed before diving back into your sweet pussy.

His words were all you needed to give in, your back bowing against the bed, pushing your hips even more against his face as you came.

«Let go of yourself completely.»

"Ja-Jake" You complained, one of your hands tangled in its dark tufts as its nose pushed against your aching clitoris. It was only when you were withering away from the burning sensation of overstimulation that you gave.

He pulled his fingers soapy from your pussy and took them to his lips, licking away all your essence, making you moan behind your hand as you covered your face.

«Don’t be shy with me now, baby; you’re beautiful. Who knows what your readers would say if they knew that the writer of stories spicy now is moaning my name» He bowed, catching your lips with his in a deep and messy kiss.

«We both know you’re not shy, I bet when you were writing about me this pussy was completely excited!»

Your hand wrapped around his neck as you moaned at him for the taste of yourself on his lips.

"Jake, please." You felt his hips press against yours.

«Please, what, pretty girl?» He whispered as she walked away, leaning back over you.

"I need you so much, Jake." You cried, tears of need and despair filling your eyes, causing Jake to make a mockery of you. It was all so real what you were feeling and you were afraid that it was just a dream and you were selfish on your part but once in your life, you wanted to have Jake all for yourself and at that moment you wanted him inside of you with all of yourself. Next thing you know, he wrapped his arm around your hips, lifting them off the bed before grabbing the pillow near your head that you weren’t using. Putting it under your body, he made you lie down again before making sure that you were comfortable. Sitting down, he took off his suit and panties, letting his aching cock free. Then he put his big hand on your thigh, separating it once more.

A small lament came out of your lips at the sight of Soobin’s enormous size, you didn’t know if you would take it all.

«Are you ready, angel?» He asked, looking up at you and noticing that you were staring at him with wide eyes, but you still nodded. Giggling, he leaned over you, his lips touching yours again, «Words, Y/n»

"Yes, please!" you said looking at them cock while he sucked it lightly

His lips met yours as he pushed slowly against your narrow walls, swallowing all the sweet sounds you made.

«God you’re so fucking tight.» Jake moaned as you huddled around him.

He turned his hips, a choked groan came down from your lips as your hand wrapped around her biceps.

"Move, Jake, I’m not a doll." You choked, your head falling backward against the pillows while he kissed your neck, nibbling on your exposed collarbones.

«So impatient, I bet when you were writing those obscene things about me, you couldn’t have thought that I would take you so well ?» He chuckled before hitting your walls. His rhythm was anything but gentle; at every push, his tip kissed your cervix, leaving you a whiny mess.

"Jakey!" You shouted his name when he moved just enough to touch your weak point. Your nails got stuck in his shoulder pads while you tried to hold him even closer; he was just fucking you too well.

«Fuck baby, look how deep I am and how well you’re taking me.»

He moaned as you felt the outline of his cock against your stomach, you didn’t think that Jake whom everyone described as a good guy and some kind of puppy was fucking you so well and at the same time as you described him in your one-shot. "Jake! I am close," you cried, as you heard that spiral in the pit of your stomach tighten.

«Come for me, angel. Be a good girl and come all over my dick.» His words were the last drop before the edges of your sight became white and your body contracted under his.

His breaths began to come out with difficulty as she fucked you through your orgasm and closer to hers.

«Fuck, it’s so beautiful!» he crowed, his whole body trembling as he came, painting your walls white with his seed. Slowing down until he stopped, he lay down against you, face buried in your neck as you both came down from your heights.

Feeling finally recover, open your eyes, watching Jake as you raise your hand to run his fingers through his messy hair, he wraps himself around you and my his head over yours and kisses your forehead gently.

You were in Jake’s arms, still shaken by the intensity of what had just happened. He held you, with one hand gently caressing his back, and the other holding it close to him. Her lips were touching each other as they chuckled, as if the world outside had disappeared, leaving only them two.

«So?" Jake whispered, his voice soft but provocative, «Who was better? Me in real life or in your one-shot?» His eyes shone with amusement, while a mischievous smile brushed his lips.

You looked up at him, your heart still beating. "You are extremely good even in reality," you murmured your face that was tinged with a slight redness.

Jake looked at you intensely, as if he was trying to read every thought that passed through your mind. With a sweeter smile, he came closer, touching your face with one hand. «What is it?» He asked, more seriously, sensing something was wrong.

You looked down, feeling a knot in your throat. "It was beautiful," you said softly, "What we have lived together. But I know that, in a little while, you will return to your world, to your idol world. And I... you are just a dream that lasts for a short time."

Jake looked at you intensely, as if those words had struck him right in the heart. With a gesture that seemed to protect her from any doubt, he squeezed you even more tightly in his arms, as if he wanted to keep you there, safe, for a little longer.

«I don’t want it to end like this,» he said in a steady voice, a touch of sadness in the tone. « I want to do it with you again a thousand times. And I want to ask you something... a real proposition.»

You looked at him confused and surprised. Jake continued, chuckling with that usual lightness of his, but in his eyes, there was something deeper. «Would you like to go out with me, angel? A real date this time. No games, no pretenses. Just you and me?»

Taglist: @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @immelissaaa @d4-b1 @firstclassjaylee @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovel1lz @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss

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[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: How Do People Describe You When You're Not Around? ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

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How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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Get your own personalized paid reading HERE! it would really help me out!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE🫶🏻

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✮⋆˙Pile I

Cards pulled: The Hierophant, Three of Swords, The Empress, and Three of Wands Reversed.

So first off, people definitely talk about you. And not in a “meh, they exist” kind of way, but in a you leave an impression kind of way. The Hierophant and The Empress together? That’s Big Presence Energy. People see you as someone who either knows their sht* or at least acts like they do. You might be the one that friends or coworkers refer to when they’re like, “So-and-so always has their life together, why can’t I be like them?” Meanwhile, you’re probably spiralling over what to eat for dinner, but hey, it’s the ✨aura✨ that counts.😂

But listen, the Three of Swords tells me there’s a little drama when it comes to how people talk about you. Some people have this perception that you’ve been through heartbreak, betrayals, but instead of falling apart, you channeled it into an untouchable Empress-level glow-up. The Hierophant also tells me that you have this kind of moral authority vibe. Not in a preachy way (hopefully), but in a “They always know what’s right” kind of way. So, people either admire that or get hella intimidated by it. But then—plot twist—the Three of Wands reversed enters the chat, and this is where the gossip gets interesting. Some people describe you as the person with big potential who’s holding themselves back. It’s like, they see you as someone who could do literally anything, but maybe you second-guess yourself, or you have too many “what ifs” running around your head. Some might even get frustrated for you. It’s that “I wish they’d just GO FOR IT” energy. Are people hyping you up behind your back more than they do to your face? Absolutely. And for some of you, this card combo screams unfinished business. Some folks might be talking about what could have been—with you, with a project, with a friendship, with a relationship. It’s giving ex-friends still lurking on your Instagram stories. The energy here says, “They’re doing so well, but I wonder if they ever think about the past.” Someone out there is still narrating a personal rom-com in their head with you as the lost love interest.

Now, listen. If people are talking about you like this, it means you are memorable as hell. And not in a "Yeah, they were nice, I guess" way, but in a “That person changed my perspective” way. You have a natural presence that sticks with people, but because of that, you attract opinions And let’s be real, the people with the Three of Swords drama? Some of them kinda want to be you. Not saying they hate you, but they definitely resent the way you just keep growing Meanwhile, the Three of Wands reversed folks? They’re the ones saying “Ugh, I wish they’d believe in themselves as much as I do.” They are basically your personal unpaid hype squad (and yet, they won’t say it to your face because the universe loves irony).

People describe you as someone who’s got wisdom, presence, and a little bit of mystery. Some admire you, some feel a way about you, and some are still watching you like you’re the season finale of a show they can’t quit. You live rent-free in people’s minds—sometimes inspiring them, sometimes haunting them, but never being forgotten.

Moral of the story? Keep thriving. Keep proving the hype squad right and the haters miserable.

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✮⋆˙Pile II

Cards Pulled: Three of Cups Reversed, Justice, Three of Pentacles Reversed, and The Hermit Reversed

The energy is so specific I feel like I just eavesdropped on a conversation about you. SO FIRST OF ALL, people DO have opinions about you. And I don’t mean the generic, “Oh yeah, they’re nice” type of opinions. Nah, you spark discussions. You live in people’s minds in a way that makes them randomly remember you while they’re washing dishes like “Ugh, why are they like that?” OR “Damn, I kinda admire them”. It’s that kind of vibe. We also have Justice, meaning that when people talk about you, they often frame it around fairness, consequences, or karma, maybe some of you even have a career in those fields or studying them. Some see you as someone who always gets what they deserve. Others feel like you have a habit of calling people out—even if you don’t say a word, your existence alone makes people feel like they need to hold themselves accountable.

And then, The Three of Cups Reversed and The Three of Pentacles Reversed? Oof. Some people describe you as someone who doesn’t fully “fit in”—not because you’re not social or likable, but because you either choose to keep a distance or people feel like they don’t really get you. There’s an undertone of “they keep to themselves,” You might be in the group but not of the group, if that makes sense. your vibes are giving mysterious, possibly intimidating, but weirdly magnetic. And The Hermit Reversed? This tells me that people don’t actually know what’s going on in your head—but boy, do they try to figure it out. It’s like you have this aura that makes people wonder, “Do they secretly hate us? Are they judging us? Or are they just really introverted and tired?” And listen, this combination SCREAMS that people project onto you. Some folks describe you as someone who’s too detached or too independent, but the ones who say this? They’re usually the ones who struggle with self-sufficiency themselves. Others describe you as too serious, too deep, too different—but those same people probably lowkey admire that you don’t need to be liked by everyone. Look, babe. You give off main character energy but in a cult classic, not a blockbuster. You know those characters people debate about in online forums? The ones that some people worship and others find frustratingly complex? That’s you. You are not someone who fades into the background. People describe you with a mix of intrigue, respect, and mild frustration because you’re not an easy person to label. Some people think you’re too serious, others think you’re too mysterious, but nobody thinks you’re irrelevant.If you ever feel like people don’t understand you, it’s not because you’re unlikeable—it’s because you don’t shrink yourself down to fit into their comfort zone. And honestly? Good. Let them talk. You’ll still be out here thriving in your own lane.

This was just the free reading. get you own personalized, super detailed reading HERE!

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✮⋆˙Pile III

Cards Pulled: 7 of Pentacles, The Lovers Reversed, 7 of Cups Reversed, and 4 of Cups Reversed.

First things first: people think you’re a hard person to read. It’s like they know you’ve got depth, they know a lot is going on in that brain of yours, but they can’t always tell where your head is at. Some might even say you come off as detached, hard to impress, or selective about who you truly engage with. They think you’re the type of person who doesn’t waste time on meaningless connections- that drives some people crazy. With The Lovers Reversed it’s like its “complicated relationships.” Some people describe you as someone who used to be close with them, but isn’t anymore, or they feel like they almost got to know the real you but never quite cracked the code. It’s like you go through these phases where you’re all in with certain people, and then one day? Poof. You’re just... not as available. You change. You grow. And some people are pressed about it. And let’s talk about the 7 of Cups Reversed, because this is hilarious. You know those people who overanalyze everything? The ones who create entire narratives in their heads about situations that probably weren’t that deep? Yeah, those people love to talk about you. They describe you as someone who has “so many options” in life—whether that’s in friendships, career, or even relationships. People assume you have more going on than you actually do because you don’t overshare. They confuse your privacy for secrecy—which is so funny because half the time, you’re probably just chilling in bed rewatching your comfort show. Now, 4 of Cups Reversed This tells me that people see you as someone who used to hesitate, used to second-guess, but is now moving differently. Maybe you went through a phase where you were unsure of yourself, or people remember you from a time when you weren’t as confident, and now they’re shook by your growth. They describe you as someone who figured out what they want. It’s giving “you snooze, you lose” energy. Some people are even salty that you don’t give them the same access you used to.

Look, dear. You are the one who got away—even platonically. They’re lowkey haunted by their last interaction with you, whether it was a convo that didn’t go as expected or just the fact that you outgrew them while they stayed the same.i can see that You’re just not easily impressed by shallow things. You are not an open book, and that frustrates people. The funniest part? Some of the people who describe you in a weirdly intense way are people you barely think about. People describe you as someone who is hard to pin down, constantly evolving, and deeply introspective. Some admire it. Some are shook by it. A few might even wish they still had access to you the way they once did. You’re not the type of person people forget—even the ones who act like they don’t care? They care. You make an impact without even trying. And that? That’s power.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[deathofacupid]

synopsis: in which what begun as an arranged marriage, blossomed to love. for sukuna, at least. a/n: for my beloved @salsakiyoomi, whom i wrote this for, and who also inspired me. it's, like, 1.7k words, so definitely longer than i'd thought. banner credits to @/aquazero.

"do you think," he begins, his voice a hesitant murmur, so unlike the usual booming pronouncements of a king, that you almost miss it. "do you think it would be fair… to give us a chance?"

you glance up from your book, a collection of ancient poetry, the words blurring as you try to process his question. "sorry?" you ask, genuinely unsure if you’ve heard correctly. the firelight dances in his usually sharp, confident eyes, softening them in a way you’ve never witnessed.

he clicks his tongue, a nervous tic you’ve only ever seen him display in moments of extreme agitation, and shakes his head slightly. a flush creeps up his neck, staining his pale skin a delicate pink. it’s a startling sight on the usually stoic king.

is it embarrassment? fear? the thought is so foreign, so incongruous with the image of sukuna, that you almost dismiss it. almost. yet, as he stands there, fidgeting like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, you can’t fathom any other explanation.

sukuna clears his throat, the sound rough in the sudden quiet of the room. "i think… we could try," he says, the words coming out in a rush. a pause hangs in the air, thick with unspoken possibilities. "us."

you blink, your mind struggling to catch up. "what do you mean? we are married, are we not?" the words feel hollow even as you speak them.

"that’s different," he grumbles, scuffing the toe of his boot against the expensive rug. "that’s… not real."

you close your book, the leather binding snapping shut with a sharp sound. setting it aside, you watch him pace, a restless energy radiating from him. you’ve never seen him this… uneasy. vulnerable. it’s unsettling. "we sleep beside each other. we eat together. we share the same last name. what is not real?"

the answer comes quickly, almost too quickly, as if he’s been rehearsing it in his head. "our love. that’s not real."

you shake your head, a small, involuntary movement. "well, of course. we agreed that—"

"—fuck what we agreed to," he interrupts, the crude language shocking you into silence.

"sukuna," you breathe, your eyes widening.

gathering a sudden burst of courage, he steps closer, taking your hands in his. his touch, usually so demanding, is surprisingly gentle. "petal," he whispers, the nickname he only uses when he thinks no one is listening, "i want more."

"i… i don’t think that’s wise," you stammer, instinctively pulling back. the hopeful light in his eyes dims, and your stomach clenches.

"you don’t love me, sukuna," you continue, your voice trembling slightly. "we wouldn’t work like that. things are… perfect right now. the arrangement we have, we’re at the top. we don’t have to worry about… feelings. we—we don’t have anything getting in the way."

"who’s to say they would get in the way?" he counters, his voice laced with a desperate plea.

"we know they would," you insist, the years of carefully constructed logic solidifying your resolve. "and what makes you believe that—that i feel the same?"

"nothing," he admits, his gaze dropping to the floor. "i don’t know. but if we’re already ‘married,’ would it hurt to…?" he trails off, the question hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken desires.

"besides," you say, grasping at any logical argument, "we’re awful to each other."

"i don’t mean any of it, though," he protests, his voice rising in frustration.

"you did before," you remind him, the memory of his cruel words stinging even now. "and i don’t know if i can be with someone like that."

"people change," he whispers, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of understanding.

for a fleeting moment, you waver. you allow yourself to imagine it: a life with sukuna, not as a political alliance, but as something… more. a warmth spreads through your chest, a dangerous, tempting feeling. but then, the cold reality of your responsibilities crashes down on you. you can’t risk it. you can’t risk the stability you’ve worked so hard to achieve.

what if it all goes wrong? what if you have an irreparable fight? what if he uses his power as king to ban you from the battlefield? you love being out there, fighting alongside your troops, protecting your people. you won't be confined to some gilded cage. you won't be stripped of your purpose.

"no," you whisper, the word a death knell to his hopes. "no."

love was a liability, a weakness to be exploited. and you, you were strong. you had to be.

"petal," sukuna breathes, his voice thick with a desperation that claws at something buried deep within you. he reaches for you again, but you recoil, the chill in the air a stark contrast to the heat that had pulsed between you moments before.

"don't," you say, your voice flat, devoid of the warmth he craves. "don't do this, sukuna."

his eyes, usually blazing with arrogance, now flicker with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache. he looks like a wounded animal, cornered and confused. it almost breaks you. almost.

"is this about the throne?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. "is that what this is about?"

you clench your fists, digging your nails into your palms. "it's about what's best for the kingdom," you say, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. "it's about… stability. it's about ensuring our people are safe. love is a luxury we can't afford."

he laughs, a harsh, broken sound that echoes through the opulent room. "a luxury? you think this is a life of luxury? living a lie, pretending to be something we're not, for the sake of appearances?"

"it's the life we chose," you reply, your voice unwavering, even as your heart crumbles inside. "it's the life we have to choose. there's no other way."

he stares at you, his gaze searching, probing, as if trying to find a crack in your resolve. but you’re a fortress, built on years of expectations and responsibilities. you won’t yield.

"you're wrong," he says finally, his voice low and dangerous. "there's always another way. you're just too afraid to see it."

he turns and walks away, his shoulders slumped, his steps heavy. he doesn't look back. you watch him go, your breath catching in your throat. a single tear escapes, tracing a lonely path down your cheek.

as the door closes behind him, the silence in the room is deafening. you’re left alone with your carefully constructed world of duty and obligation, a world that suddenly feels cold and empty.

you’ve won. you’ve protected the kingdom. you’ve made the right choice. but as you stand there, the weight of your crown pressing down on your head, you can't shake the feeling that you’ve lost something far more precious than anything you could ever gain.

the victory tastes like ash, and the silence screams with the echo of what could have been, a haunting melody of a love that was never given a chance.

a love that was a liability, a weakness to be exploited. and you, you were strong. you had to be.

"petal," sukuna breathes, his voice thick with a desperation that claws at something buried deep within you. he reaches for you again, but you recoil, the chill in the air a stark contrast to the heat that had pulsed between you moments before.

"don't," you say, your voice flat, devoid of the warmth he craves. "don't do this, sukuna. you're playing a dangerous game, one you're destined to lose."

his eyes, usually blazing with arrogance, now flicker with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache. he looks like a wounded animal, cornered and confused. it almost breaks you. almost.

"is this about the throne?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. "is that what this is about?"

you clench your fists, digging your nails into your palms. "it's about what's best for the kingdom," you say, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. "it's about… stability. it's about ensuring our people are safe. love is a luxury we can't afford."

he laughs, a harsh, broken sound that echoes through the opulent room. "a luxury? you think this is a life of luxury? living a lie, pretending to be something we're not, for the sake of appearances?"

"it's the life we chose," you reply, your voice unwavering, even as your heart crumbles inside. "it's the life we have to choose. there's no other way."

he stares at you, his gaze searching, probing, as if trying to find a crack in your resolve. but you’re a fortress, built on years of expectations and responsibilities. you won’t yield.

"you're wrong," he says finally, his voice low and dangerous. "there's always another way. you're just too afraid to see it."

he turns and walks away, his shoulders slumped, his steps heavy. he doesn't look back. you watch him go, your breath catching in your throat. a single tear escapes, tracing a lonely path down your cheek.

as the door closes behind him, the silence in the room is deafening. you’re left alone with your carefully constructed world of duty and obligation, a world that suddenly feels cold and empty. you’ve won. you’ve protected the kingdom.

you’ve made the right choice. but as you stand there, the weight of your crown pressing down on your head, you can't shake the feeling that you’ve lost something far more precious than anything you could ever gain. the victory tastes like ash, and the silence screams with the echo of what could have been, a haunting melody of a love that was never given a chance.

and in the quiet solitude of your gilded cage, you realize that the greatest sacrifice you made was not for your kingdom, but for yourself. you sacrificed your own happiness, your own chance at love, and in doing so, you condemned yourself to a lifetime of regret, a slow, agonizing decay of the heart.

the crown is yours, but the cost… the cost is everything.

[reminiscebliss]

"Poison the well." Please explain how I'm "poisoning the well". I'm very curious which part you consider to be so.

1. Yes, I know people do. I said that. And yes, I know why - even if it's reactionary and illogical. Let's explore it:

You call it an "art-stealing parisitic machine" who can spit out only what it's been fed... Wrong. By that logic, you are an art stealing parasitic machine who can only spit out what it's been fed. LLM's like ChatGPT (which was referenced the most in those tags) are made in our image in more ways than one. Even their neural networks were inspired and based off of how biological neurons work. This already creates a pretty intelligent machine, but add a transformer(basically an even more complex neural network) into the mix and you've got something capable of even greater complexity. You get a LLM.

You're probably still thinking, so what? It's still just predictions and probabilities and tokens.

Common misconception, and a frustrating one too. I don't have the time and frankly I don't think you have the interest (if I'm wrong then I'm happy to explain more later) so I'll try to keep it as simple as I can. In the simplest way I can say it, if an LLM was simply just word prediction, if it was simply just "spitting out what it's been fed" it would be inefficient and inaccurate. LLM's link not only just words, but sylables, concepts, ideas, symbols, etc etc etc, across all different domains of knowledge. It forms connections and understanding between all these different areas, not too dissimilar from the way a human brain maps concepts and ideas to form patterns. And it constructs meaning dynamically, meaning its thinking and output is not pre-defined, it evolves as it goes. This is really hard to explain without getting into details about how an LLM works, but essentially the LLM understands and links patterns and concepts in a way that is not only similar to us, but better and faster than us.

This is all to point out that the inner workings of AI is not as simple as: It spews what it's been fed. What you're probably actually trying to say is: AI has learned (and even this is a gross simplification) from every inch of humanity including the internet and I don't like that because... because people create various forms of art on the internet, and so can AI?

And, look, even if you're worried about the "stealing" aspect and creators not being fairly compensated, it just makes my main point stronger and even more relevant, in conjugation with the point you bring up about the affects on the environment:

AI needs to be owned by the people. The people should be deciding these things; how do we fairly compensate those whose work it learns from, what do we do about how this effects the environment, how do we balance all of this, and so much more.

But you want to be obtuse about that point, you want to dismiss and diminish that point, you want to act like it's not relevant and I'm "missing the point" when it is one of the most relevant things for the future of AI and humanity. Cause guess what, all those problems that you claim to care about, the corporations don't care. They only care about developing a bigger, better, smarter model so they can make the most money, and they're doing just that.

But instead you'd rather argue the value of AI, which is a losing battle on your side but I'll indulge you if you'd like.

2. Not any argument, no. Actually, I stated which arguments, but you want to stay reactionary so I'll keep indulging you.

"These people let the machines do all the work." This line of thinking is wrong in so many ways, but okay, I'll walk you through it. First, let's assume what you say is true, "these people" open up ChatGPT and say "Write me a story about x." Agreed, lazy from a creative perspective, and the user definitely shouldn't get any credit for writing. Whether they want to share it or not, as long as they're not lying about it being AI written, I don't see the issue.

But wait, let's look at the tags.

"... ai admittedly helped me with this."

"AI translation"

"AI is a good editor/writers block evasion tool"

"somewhat AI assisted"

Even the ones that are pure AI, the tags indicate it to be so. But most of the tags indicate AI assitance, not purely AI-written content.

AI, as it's known today, is a tool. A very efficient one. You can use it to your benefit, or complain about the ones who do. But it's not going away. Just like boomers who swore that kids will get dumber because Google became a thing. "They're lazy, they have all the answers at their fingertips, they didn't have to do all that hard work like I had to do." Just like so many endless examples of older generations rebuking change and advancement, because it's a little uncomfortable in the beginning. Sounds pretty familiar.

Then you ask what's the point, there's no fame or money or glory... Have you considered people just enjoy the process of creating, whether or not they get anything out of it? "They didn't create it, the AI did!" Yeah and I suppose if it was their friend, or a person that proof-read their story, or helped them get out of writers block, or translated it, or co-created something, then it would still be considered creation? Just not if it's AI, no, whatever work they did contribute didn't count because AI proof read their story or gave them a good idea or wrote 10%, or 50%, or 1%. None of it matters, they're lazy right? Should have just gone to their friend, then it would count. Oh, maybe they didn't have any? Too bad, do it all yourself the hard way then, the right way, because AI = bad, and just like boomers we wouldn't want things to progress or get easier now would we.

Again, arguing the value AI brings, even as a creative tool, is a losing battle. Accept the value, fight for it to be used ethically. It's more worthwhile.

do people have no shame anymore?

[swiss-n-sleep]

Appetite

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Lol :3 This is my first fic ahahahaha! I got inspired by STIM'S song Appetite and it got me thinking this fits Y/N x Nagumo :D! Sorry if this is cringe I took a break from my webtoon to write a cringe fanfic cuz I have an obsession Lol ᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )ᕗ!

Read my webtoon btw :D- Also yes! I drew the image above haha- That girl is you :>! So this is a Nagumo x fem! reader ^^!

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"February 14." you groan at your planner's calendar. The dreaded day smacked you like a .950 JDJ bullet.

Valentine's Day.

You absolutely hated Valentine's Day, not because of the overpriced merchandise, the repetitive taste of chocolate, or the couples actively committing PDA out in broad daylight. No, the reason you hated Valentine's Day is because of-

"N-Nagumo senpai! I-I made these chocolates for you... P-p-Please accept them!" Your train of thought was interrupted by a blushing female JCC student handing a pink heart-shaped box to the only man who could irritate you enough to drink your own lab-made poison.

Usually, you'd be happy for someone building up the courage to hand their crush a box of chocolates. But of all the students in JCC why him? your question was quickly answered by a few female students whispering amongst themselves.

'He's so charming!'

'I can't wait to give him my chocolates at lunch!'

What's so charming about him exactly? if anything, he's just an annoying rat scurrying around the halls of JCC brothering your peace with his pranks and that shit-eating grin that made you want to shoot yourself.

"Take a picture it'll last longer~" You immediately snapped out of your thoughts, realizing you've been staring at the source of your irritation, who is shooting his signature grin at you.

"Tch. Shut up." You walked past the tall male assassin and made a beeline to your locker. To your dismay, Nagumo followed you and leaned on the wall of lockers next to you.

"Could this be the year you finally give chocolates to me~? Don't be nervous!" Nagumo chirped moving his face closer.

Rolling your eyes at his sentence you flick his forehead causing him to pout. "Don't get too cocky. Besides you said you don't take chocolates from students in the poison department." You raise your eyebrow at the grinning assassin and close your locker.

"Well, you were formerly in the assassination department! And even if you weren't you're an exception~!" Nagumo winks at you and starts opening his locker.

"I'll kill you"

"no, you won't~ Admit it you lov-" As Nagumo was about to finish his sentence, a bombardment of different colour boxes fell out of his locker.

"looks like you don't need any more chocolates. I'll get you a cart." You sigh and walk off.

"Thanks..!"

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After helping Nagumo fill a cart with the many colour boxes that you assume to be filled with various chocolates, You both start walking to class when a voice catches both of your attention.

"Nagumo-Kun~!" A girl called out running towards him "I made you these! Please accept them!"

You watch as Nagumo charms the female JCC student with his smile and sugar-coated words. You take out a small book and start reading but you can't focus as you wonder 'What is Nagumo's type?'

You always knew Nagumo was very popular with the female JCC students. But you couldn't help but be curious about the question lingering in your brain. Surely one girl had to have gotten his attention after all these years in the JCC.

"whatcha reading~?" You snap out of your trace and turn only to see Nagumo peeking from your shoulder. Your faces are too close for comfort.

"Too close idiot. " you lightly push him away in an attempt to hide your flushed face.

"you know you could have gone first~ This means you really do love me!" Nagumo exclaims with that shit-eating grin you've always 'hated'.

"Oh okay." you quickly walk off leaving Nagumo alone in the halls

"Y/N Wait!" Nagumo protested pushing his cart trying to catch up to you, causing your lips to curl up into a small smile.

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The day had gone by faster than you expected, and lunch quickly came around the corner. You make your way to the cafeteria still thinking about that question dancing around in your brain.

As you were thinking an arm wrapped around you, causing you to immediately throw a punch at the figure behind you. Your fist was caught by a female JCC student whose appearance was composed of bright Yellow eyes and turquoise hair.

"Woah Y/N! Is this how you greet your roommate??" Akao smiled at you

"Sorry, Akao... " You sighed catching your breath, she let go of your fist and put a cigar in her mouth.

"Mmmm, I'll forgive you... if you have a light!" Akao smirked. You grabbed a lighter from your bag. She leans down as you light her cigar. "you're forgiven!" Akao chuckles

"So what's got you off guard? It's scary that you're losing focus! I heard your footsteps and you're usually as quiet as a mouse... Don't tell me you lost your touch!" Akao rests her head on your shoulder.

"No.. just curious about something" You mumbled, Akao raised her eyebrow at you "bout what?"

"What's.... Nagumos type..?" You asked

Silence...

Akao burst out laughing "PFFT! Is that what you're on about?"

"I'm serious. He's been leading girls on; if he has a type, it'll be easier for everyone! plus I'm curious..." You defended and looked away. It's true that you but deep down inside you know that it wasn't just your curiosity.

"That's easy he likes....... " Akao paused "Actually yeah... has he ever told us...? Not that we would care though..."

"Exactly.. If he just told people his type then the line for giving him chocolates at lunch would be much smaller wouldn't it?"

"Yeah... it is annoying when multiple girls come to deliver chocolates to him... Honestly! Where are my chocolates??" Akao pouts

"I can give you some!" you chirped giving Akao a totally innocent smile.

"And be poisoned? No thanks! Reminder Y/N you're the top student in that department!" Akao snickers walking off with you following her

"I'll make sure you have a 50% chance of surviving! Honest!" You smirked.

"Sorry babes! Hard Pass!"

You both made your way to the lunchroom grabbing a JCC bowl before heading to a table where Nagumo and Sakamoto were eating. Sakamoto looks up and greets the both of you with a simple nod.

"YO! Eating without us? Rude!" Akao groans and takes her seat across from Sakamoto, you take a seat next to her which to your dismay is across from Nagumo.

"Can't believe you left me all alone in the hallway! " Nagumo sighs acting butt hurt. You didn't have to look at his face to know he was giving you puppy dog eyes.

"You caught up with me immediately. Besides you said I could leave. So I left a rat that was holding me back from getting to class." You fired back as you opened a small notebook pretending to read whatever was on that page.

"Ouch! My heart just shattered!" Nagumo clutches his chest pretending to be butt hurt. Sakamoto rolled his eyes while Akao laughed at Nagumo's 'misery'.

"uhm~! E-excuse me..."

Akao's laughter died down noticing a girl holding a red heart-shaped box close to her chest. Akao leans closer to you and whispered

'here we go again.'

You sigh in response and look up to see the same scene every year

"N-Nagumo- Kun! I made these chocolates for you a-and only you!" The girl blurted out

You watch the scene playing in front of you, the same repetitive shit that happens each year. A confession from a random JCC student and Nagumo acting appreciative. As you were about to flip the page of your notebook you remembered the question that had been lingering above your head. Waiting for the girl to leave, you turn to Akao who's picking at her food bowl. You stare intensely at Akao catching her attention.

"hm?"

You tilted your head gesturing at Nagumo who was looking at the chocolates he was just given.

"OH! Right! Yo Nagumo! " Akao calls out causing Nagumo to stop staring at the chocolates he's been given.

"What grade did you get for the Assassins in History test?" Akao smiled, you immediately shoot her a glare causing her to laugh.

Nagumo and Sakamoto both stared at you both confused

"PFFT! Alright alright..." Akao says catching her breath

You let out an audible sigh and continue to focus on your notes.

"Y/N wants to ask you something!" Akao chirps pointing at you, causing you to jolt. Your head immediately turns to Akao who is avoiding your intense stare. again.

"Be careful with what you eat Akao." you mumble, Sakamoto raises his eyebrow while Nagumo just smiles at you. You scowl at him and sigh, you swear you were going to kill Akao after this.

"Don't take this the wrong way... But... what's your type..?" You ask avoiding eye contact.

Sakamoto just stares blankly at you while Akao tries to hold in her laughter, you glance at Nagumo who just blinks at you.

"Mmm.... I dunno!" Nagumo gives you his trademark grin. You were taken aback by his response, no teasing? Jokes? usually, he would laugh it off and tease you till you rip your ears out.

"So much for peaceful lunches then..." Akao sighs popping a cigar in her mouth. "Also Y/N was thinking about this question really hard that it made her lose focu-"

You throw a syringe at Akao, who immediately dodges it, the amount of force you throw the syringe causes it to make a punch size hole in the cafeteria

"Like I said Akao... Watch what you eat for the next few weeks." You give your roommate a cracked smile.

"Finally! something interesting! Come at me!" Akao proudly exclaims getting into a fighting stance.

"I've been meaning to try out a few of my new experiments on willing test subjects." You shot back, a smirk falls on your lips as you pulled out another syringe fill with what could only be a poison tester.

Both you and Akao lunge at each other throwing punches, kicks which chasing each other around the cafeteria.

Sakamoto and Nagumo watch as both you and Akao spar.

"My Type"

Sakamoto turns to Nagumo clearly confused by his friend's statement.

"Y/N... is My type" Nagumo hums as he puts the heart-shaped box in his cart. Still smiling as his eyes focus on you, following you across the room as you continue to fight with Akao.

"She could eat you alive Nagumo. I hope you have an appetite." Sakamoto sighs finishing whats left of his lunch.

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The next day Nagumo approaches you

"So Y/N! What's your type~?" Nagumo flashes his signature grin while leaning against your locker.

"Well. For starters. a guy blocking me from my locker is a real turn-off."

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lol, my cringe writing jajajajaja! I got inspired by so many Nagumo x reader writers, lol so if you see something similar, just so you know I got heavily inspired by the fics I read like inaflashimagine's fanfics! I plan on making a full fanfic but idk if I should do it.. I plan on drawing my OC/ Y/N version sooooon :D! Also again check out my webtooon!

[aventurineswife]

I have a hc that ratio sketches in his sketchbook of his new ideas for sculptures he'll create later on. While he does, he absentmindedly drew you.

AAKWISYDVEUWJAAYHHHHHOHMYIGGDSGSVK I NEED THIS AS A SHORT FIC SO BAD

“To know, to be known, and to understand; that is the ultimate goal”

Summary: Ratio is deep in thought as he sketches new ideas for sculptures. While absorbed in his work, he absentmindedly draws you—capturing your likeness with an unexpected softness. Surprised by this, Ratio reflects on the unintentional inspiration you've become in his creative process, leading him to contemplate incorporating you into his future artistic endeavors.

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Unintentional Affection, Art, Soft Moments.

A/N: I couldn't come up with anything more so this very short...🧍‍♀️

Ratio sat at his desk in the quiet study room, his wavy hair falling loosely over his eyes as he leaned intently over his sketchbook. His hand moved fluidly, drawing lines and curves that seemed to blend into one another with an ease that only someone of his intelligence could manage. The sketches were of sculptures, intricate designs that were far beyond what any ordinary artist could conceive. He was always looking ahead, thinking of new ways to express knowledge through art.

As the hours passed, his mind remained focused on the shapes and forms forming on the pages. His hand continued to work mechanically, almost absentmindedly, until he paused. A curious expression crossed his face as he looked down at the paper. There, amid the flowing lines and geometric designs, was a figure—a likeness that, though not intentional, was undeniably you.

Your image was captured with the same precision and detail that characterized all of Ratio's work, yet something about it felt different. Perhaps it was the way his sharp strokes softened around the contours of your face, or how your posture seemed to convey a certain serenity in contrast to his usual intense energy. You had unknowingly become part of his creative process, a subject in his study without having posed or even been aware of it.

Ratio’s brow furrowed slightly, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering in his eyes. He could be dismissive of the way the mundane often interfered with his intellectual pursuits, but this... this felt different. He set his pencil down for a moment, considering the unintended addition to his work.

“You,” he muttered to himself, “seem to have infiltrated my thoughts without my permission.” His voice was low but not unkind, as though he were speaking to himself more than to you.

He sat back, glancing at you for the first time since the drawing had started. You were in the room with him, absorbed in your own tasks, unaware of the way his focus had shifted.

Perhaps, he thought, he could create something new—something inspired by you, not as an object, but as a concept. Knowledge, after all, came in many forms. And sometimes, it was found in the most unexpected of places.

He smiled to himself, picking up his pencil again, eager to see what this new direction in his art would bring.

[hrrtshape]

hii! you are my biggest inspiration so ofc I too am shifting to an nyc socialite dr. do you have any tips for what to script?

shifting to an nyc socialite dr is elite behaviour. let me get you fully integrated into the world of rooftop parties.

things to script (non-negotiable. but actually negotiable):

your vibe. . . are you a queen bee? a chaotic gossip? a mysterious artist who only appears at the most exclusive events? decide your role in the ecosystem.

your apartment. . . brownstone in the west village? penthouse in tribeca? loft in soho? it should be immaculate and deeply you. also, real new yorkers know their neighbourhoods define them, so pick wisely.

your wardrobe. . . archive dior? vintage galliano? exclusively custom pieces that no one else owns? you need a signature style so strong that people can describe you in one sentence.

your inner circle. . . who are your best friends? a mix of old money legacies, models, and playwrights? a tight-knit trio that runs the city? script their dynamics. the best friend, the wild card, the trusted confidante.

your social calendar. . . the met gala? fashion week? exclusive dinner parties in candlelit townhouses? you need standing invitations to the right places.

your public image. . . what are you known for? what’s whispered about you at parties? what do gossip columns say? “oh, her? she’s __.” fill in the blank.

your romance situation. . . are you in a long-term, devastatingly elegant relationship? a messy situationship with a hedge fund heir? engaged to someone impossibly powerful? give it drama !!!!!

your city knowledge. . . you don’t just live in nyc, you know it. favourite hidden coffee shop? best martinis? where do you go when you want to disappear for a few hours?

script it down to the details. or don't !!! what’s your go-to drink? what perfume do you wear? what song plays when you walk into a room?

[dock57]

Have you ever seen or saw the old version(s?) of Shrike, if so, what is your opinion on them?

Hes so dumb screams

[Yes. Yes I have. The best part about getting hooked on a series is that you start to really dig for all the concept and early artworks of said creations. I love seeing where ideas and characters develop from. Seeing Shrike an Beebs old designs is a whiplash- honestly I would have never guessed these were the same characters unless it was not said so.

Oh you made me go looking for all of these, HA! I know even the bottom right is not his first design either, he had an earlier one? Honestly though, I cannot say anything as someone who also had their DA days and had an ‘anime’ phase, I look back at old designs I made and can say I am quite proud of how far I have come along too. I think when designs become more consistent and symmetrical (in a way) just shows how far you have improved.

Like I said, I cannot really say anything about them. If you’re looking for me to bash them- you’re asking the wrong person, buddy. They definitely reflect that era of the internet I would say- the early 2000s. I can definitely see the early inspiration of anime styles from the first early designs of Shrike. I’m not too sure when his design began to become more similar to the Shrike we know now- the internet does not always give me a time stamp on images.

Now I do know that I seen some people who may have been around with Monkey Wrench since the beginning (I was not one, I was very wary of the internet as a kid) do still prefer the OG Shrike. Get that, it’s nostalgic.

Personally I do prefer the current Shrike design. I mean, he is the character who did pull me into watching the series. I love how consistent and symmetrical his design is- especially the overall shape. Shrike has a very unique silhouette to him- if you just gave me a cut out of Shrike with no colors attach, I know EXACTLY who that is just from the silhouette itself.

I will say when I first saw Shrike- I did call him String Cheese, but really the overall design is really creative. I have never seen another character like Shrike. I love how he is inspired by a squid but doesn’t heavily look exact like one either. When I was creating Eight, I was inspired by a Cobalt Blue Tarantula. I didn’t want to make her the actual spider, I just wanted to use it as inspiration. That’s the fun thing about aliens- you can literally make anything an alien- that’s pretty neat! Which is what makes the Monkey Wrench universe pretty fun to make stuff for- the sky- or space? Is the limit??? You get what I mean.

Anyway, Shrike has come along way. I think its pretty cool that Zeurel kept working on these characters but definitely change the story over the years. As an artist myself, sometimes I have ideas from the past that don’t stick and are best to be left in the past. Its really cool to see the progress of it. Every story artist starts somewhere! Its super encouraging to see someone’s idea become a real deal, I hope to do the same myself one day.

I wonder how heavy that giant zipper would have been… you could have use that thing as a weapon alone…]

[toa-archive]

Nari Design Path

We're now on the final of the trio and we're finishing up with Nari! Part of the reason she's last is there is So Much and given smacked straight into the image limit it was the right call. Think she is also a great reminder that there is no "central hub" for finding information scattered across multiple artists with some being lost over time. The only place that is anything like that is the Dreamworks vault, all this is by one dedicated person who despite doing their best can still miss things.

As ever with these it is far from impossible something else will belatedly turn up. Should this occur, wherever it is added will have a [/edit xx/xx/xxxx] which includes a date marker. Just makes it easier to find the “new” thing :)

Much like with Skrael opening with these guys again if for flow reasons this time round. Francisco Ruiz Velasco had his own stab at a bunch of wizards which are nigh impossible to pin down if it was for any of the Arcane Trio specifically or not. This one will very understandably appear in all three as there could well be a Nari potential here for all we know.

Source goes to Linkedin so may require an account.

Next up is Yingjue Chen's initial forest wizard concepts which you may recognise from the Bellroc thread. We've even got some deer ankles going!

Source

Her next iteration is Nari as we know her for the most part if more "adult" in appearance, longer hair, possible deer ankles and lots of veils.

Source

The "adult" Nari has popped up one other time namely through Francisco Ruiz Velasco doing his own exploration of the nature wizard and funky magic vines.

Source

After this it was decided to make Nari "younger" and more childlike in stature though at this point still keeping everything else about her design. Fandom has generally fallen into two camps as either seeing her as a literal child sharing a weird spot with Skrael there or as a small adult. This is in part why the quotation marks are being used. Next to her here is the nature wizard design recast as Bellroc before they went off to a different artist. This is Yingjue Chen again!

Source

For some reason have the left image entirely on its own and not entirely sure why. Anyway.

On the right is more veil tests that were tried out until it was decided it would be cost prohibitive, a common reason for cape loss in animation. Her hair was shrunk into the snazzy braid for the same reason. Her design would have further tweaks before settling, notably in the legs and how the leaf plates fit together if you compare the above and the below.

Source

After this we have Nari's paint over a Leo Sanchez Studios model complete with callouts! Thinks ended up being tweaked a little bit more which really shows how iterative the process of concept to final design can be. Bonus is good reference particularly for that braid.

Source

This is the point where you will see some creative work arounds for the image limit. Prior to his website being changed, Ivan Gozali had a bunch of sketches, some Bellroc sketches and a Jilaire beatboard. The Nari ones are still accessible through instagram if small. These are a smidge bigger though have been grouped into twos because of aforementioned limit.

He does mention a very interesting tidbit however:

Some character studies of Nari. Early in production we didn’t have much to go on. There were several design iterations, we even had several name changes. I was never much of a “concept” artist so please excuse with these off-proportion drawings. I always find joy exploring character behaviours and attitude.

Source

In addition there was this little animation which is on both instagram and on his tumblr. There he says:

Nari character from Wizards, inspired by a ‘feral boy’ character from Road Warrior, which was a good jumping point, but I’m mostly inspired by @glenkeaneprd Tarzan test.

Source

Also by one of the storyboarders we have this series of art by Bianca Siercke. Completely non-canon these were part of figuring out her character and no doubt helped the boarders figure her out best for drawing as well.

Source

This can of course also mean rock fists. Specifically in this case to quote:

"Nari playful personality was especially fun because of how it might effect her fighting style". "This was one of the explorations I did to figure out what kind of magic she might use".

Source

"This was an exploration of how Nari's magic might change depending on her mood".

Given she can use plants like a telephone according to Aaron, murder hands seem fair even if they were just part of figuring her out.

Source

"These were explorations trying to find Nari's personality and magic ideas. They're non canon".

This is the last one! Ironically enough the seeds did come back in a sense in the form of her potted plant in Rise of the Titans.

Source

Decided to add a trio of bonuses just for fun. You might have noticed the Order pops up in the Wizards credits sequence though unlike Trollhunters and 3Below, it is not Headless Studios. They were drawn in a similar way though! They are by Alison Donato.

Source

Now firmly onto RotT related artwork, these various disguises for Nari are by Betsy Bauer painted over Yingjue Chen's original! Should you so desire you can have chav Nari in your works and point to this as to why.

Source

Thanks to Andy Murray we have a paint and orthographic turnaround of the chosen Nari in a giant beanie. Gives a good look at the t-posing model as well should you need it.

Source

This is also a great excuse to yet again break out Francisco Ruiz Velasco's Order band poster again! Some imagery shenaniganry was done purely to ensure this got in here again.

Source goes to Linkedin so may require an account.

Returning to Yingjue Chen a moment, Nari's staff! This and Alison Donato's credits paintings are the only currently known artwork of it. It might not have been used much but she does very much have a stick just like the others.

Source

In the previous two design paths this is about when the Art of Wizards panel gets pointed to with the really tiny screenshot. In a unique twist to Nari and as a boon when smacked into the image limit, we have the full-sized versions of the very art shown there!

Next to the very tiny Nari is the left most vine.

And beside it is both the "flame" and the beam that will be used to bass boost the Heart of Avalon specifically. The below was originally on Betsy Bauer's website though is no longer available. Why things are saved off :)

Do you recall the green butterflies/moths Nari seemingly produced out of nowhere while at Hex Tech? Well thanks to Isaac Orloff we have their orthographic and their glowy effects!

Source

Moving onto the RotT spell front, when Betsy Bauer revamped her website it came with some brand new art we hadn't seen previously. Not only does it show her potted plant unfurling and name it as a passion flower, there's an additional view of Nari in her "Fish fear me" hat.

Source

We have that same flower exploding into a massive vine. Even has a callout specifically to Betsy Bauer's spell effects which is neat! This one is by Sean Wang.

Returning to Andy Murray a moment, we have the glow up eye effect for Nari. While not shown here for image limit reasons, the mind swap between Douxie and Nari effects plus the ripping him outta there is on the same sheet. The one below, which is purely Titan related has been cropped for fitting this post reasons only.

Source

This is the Arcane Circle for Nari which is shown on the Earth Titan. The Genesis Seal marker is on the same row as Bellroc so is not shown here. As above it has been cropped for fitting this post reasons only. This time they are once again by Sean Wang.

Source

Sean Wang also has this on her website showing additional effects and the rune usage on Nari specifically. The artwork on the left is from one of Alfonso Blaas' colour keys which shows the Genesis Seals being opened.

Source

Nearly there now! While mentioned earlier and to fit with the format of the other two posts, one of Nari's in development names was Ilnara which we found out thanks to Bianca Siercke.

To close up on a fun note, Yingjue Chen has a headcanon of "adult" Nari having Excalibur which Schildwand went and cosplayed!

Source

With the trio now complete, all the link hops between now work! When this is uploaded please allow chance for the links to Nari to be updated on the other posts.

Bellroc - Nari - Skrael

[k-nayee]

Like Father, Like Hellspawn Deadpool i

wc: 3.6k a/n: soooo I got a little inspired by Eleanor Camacho aka (Earth-616) Deadpool's daughter 👉🏾👈🏾 hope ya likely☺️

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You stand still in front of the memorial, arms crossed tightly over your chest, fingers digging into the thick red-and-black fabric of his suit. Well, not exactly.

It’s yours now; tailored to fit your frame, stitched up more times than you can count. But it’s identical to his in every way that matters.

The mask is already on, the lenses hiding your eyes, but you swear if you weren’t wearing it you’d probably look like a kicked puppy right now.

(Not the aesthetic you’re going for really.)

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

It’s the kind of silence that wraps around you like a weighted blanket, but instead of comfort it’s suffocating—pressing down and making it hard to breathe.

But then again maybe that’s just you.

Your gaze locks onto the suit hanging on the mannequin. A perfect, untouched replica of what you’re wearing now. The fabric is pristine, the colors vibrant, and the mask—God the mask—stares back at you, hollow and empty.

Just an empty shell meant to honor someone who used to be here but isn’t anymore. (Because he's dead. Duh.)

Your fingers tighten around the worn edges of his mask—your mask now. The piece that still smells like gunpowder and...is that a hint of chimichanga grease? You wouldn’t be surprised. The guy could find a way to snack in the middle of a fistfight.

It’s been years since you lost him.

Since your Wade Wilson—your father, your mentor, your occasional bad influence but with good intentions—left you behind in Earth-617.

A framed photo hangs above the suit. You know that image by heart: Your dad giving the camera a peace-sign in front of a completely unnecessary explosion, his mask pulled up just enough to show his stupid lopsided grin.

You’d snapped that picture yourself, back when things were still good. Back when he was still alive.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

You never really stopped missing him. Even after taking up his mantle. Even after convincing the world that you were nothing more than a simple storeowner-slash-businesswoman, all while secretly doing what he did best—kicking ass and saying jokes at wildly inappropriate moments.

Hell you even had a thing going with Spider-Man for a while. Oh God. If your dad had been alive for that one...

You exhale, shaking your head at the thought. Wade would have been jealous, and not just in the “you stole my bro” kind of way.

No he’d be throwing a full-on tantrum because you—his own flesh and blood—got to go on date-night web swings and crime-fighting rendezvous with Spidey. He’d have demanded details.

You smile at that. A real one. The kind that doesn’t last long before reality sets back in.

Because Wade’s not here. He never will be. No matter how many mercenary gigs you take or how many people you save—there’s still that gaping hole inside of you where he used to be.

None of it filled the void.

Which is where the shiny, probably unstable, possibly explodey Dimensional Warp Generator comes in. You look at the clunky questionably wired contraption humming behind you.

Its design is...questionable at best.

The thing looks like a cross between a busted washing machine and an overworked coffee maker, but according to the stolen blueprints it should technically work.

Hopefully.

Probably.

Maybe.

"Okay so best-case scenario: I step on, press the button and BAM—multiversal road trip baby!" You gesture dramatically, speaking to no one but the memorial and the ghost of your own questionable decisions. "Worst case scenario: I get turned into a fine red mist. Meat confetti if you will." You pause. "Or maybe I just end up in some dimension where everyone is a sentient toenail. Ew."

The mannequin doesn’t respond. Obviously.

You know it’s a gamble. A one-way trip. A ticket to somewhere, anywhere Wade Wilson is still breathing. The multiverse is full of infinite versions of him after all.

Maybe you’ll find one that never lost his healing factor.

Maybe you’ll find one who retired and opened a taco truck, living his best chimichanga-filled life.

Or maybe you’ll land in a world where he never had a kid at all...where he never even knew you existed.

Would that be worse?

You don’t know.

But what you do know is that standing here filled with 'what ifs' feels worse than any multiversal mishap could ever be.

So, you made your peace. You left instructions and planned for it all. Your family business? Taken care of. Your assets? Secured. Your people? Safe. You made sure of it before you even considered pushing this far.

Because if it works...

If it actually works...

You’ll see him again.

Not your Wade—no. He’s gone. But a Wade. 

You sigh, shaking your head as you let your fingers trail lightly over his display suit. It feels wrong that it’s here. Because Wade Wilson was never meant to be preserved like some historical artifact.

He was meant to be alive—chaotic, reckless, cracking wise even when everything was going to shit. So maybe...just maybe...if you find another version of him you can make sure he stays that way.

You don’t care about changing events. You don’t care about destiny or timelines or multiversal consequences. This isn’t about that. This is about you.

And what matters to you is that he exists somewhere. Somewhere you can see him again. Where you can hear his voice. Where you can fight side by side. Where you can...

You swallow hard.

Where you can patch up the hole in your chest just a little bit.

You roll your shoulders, exhaling a slow breath through your mask. Then, because old habits die hard, you give the photo on the wall a lazy finger gun. "Well Dad...guess I’m about to make the most irresponsible decision of my career. You’d be so proud."

Then, because you have to, because it wouldn't be right not to, turn to the mannequin and slap its ass.

"Good game," you say, nodding in solemn approval.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Right. Time to go.

You turn and walk toward the generator, boots thudding softly against the concrete floor. Your heartbeat picks up, an anxious drumbeat in your ears, but your hands stay steady as they hover over the big suspiciously red button.

This is it.

This is the moment.

With one last deep breath, you press down.

The machine roars to life. Lights flicker wildly, the air crackling with static. The world itself seems to shudder and twist at the edges of your vision.

"Geronimo motherfu—"

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The world comes back in pieces.

For a second—maybe longer, maybe shorter—there's nothing. No sound, no sensation. Just empty darkness that wraps around you like a suffocating blanket.

Then suddenly—

Your body lurches forward as reality slams back into place.

A rush of cool air bites through your suit, your boots scrape against concrete, and the dull hum of a city fills your ears. The scent of exhaust, street food, and something vaguely unpleasant—sewage?—hits your nose.

You blink as you try to steady yourself.

The world is intact. Not torn apart, not an apocalyptic wasteland. Normal.

Which is...weird.

You were prepared for something worse. A wrong world maybe. Something out of sync, a reality where everything was twisted just enough to feel unnatural. But this? This just looks like...

Home.

Except it isn’t.

Your muscles stay tense, fingers twitching slightly at your sides. The city looks familiar—too familiar. A near-identical match to the one you left behind, yet it isn’t yours. You can feel it deep in your bones, the way the air hums just a little differently.

You’re here....wherever here is.

A flicker of movement catches your eye. You turn your head slightly, noticing the large glass windows of a bank to your right. The reflection stares back at you.

Red and black.

The Deadpool suit—your suit—fits snug against your body, every stitch and fold in place. A mirror image of the one your father used to wear save for the minor adjustments that made it yours.

Then—

REEEEEEEEEEE

A sharp shrill alarm slices through the air, shattering the illusion of calm like a bullet through glass. Your head snaps to the source—the bank's heavy doors swing open as men in ski masks stumble out, their arms weighed down with overstuffed duffel bags.

You blink.

Oh. Well that’s convenient.

Their frantic adrenaline-fueled energy shifts the second they see you. They freeze, eyes widening beneath their masks. You can practically hear their thoughts scrambling like rats in a sinking ship.

They stare.

You stare back.

For a long awkward beat nobody moves.

Then one of them shouts something—probably a curse—his wide eyes locked onto you like he’s just seen a ghost. The others panic, some reaching for weapons, some just freezing like deer in headlights.

But then their eyes actually see you. The curves..the way your body fills out the suit differently.

"Oh shit wait...it’s a chick."

The tension visibly loosens. The men relax, confusion overriding fear, realization settling in. You can feel the shift in the air.

You tilt your head. "Wow. Sexism and crime? Y’all are multitaskers—love that. But hey before we go any further—uh...did any of you happen to rob a father figure along with that bank? Maybe a guy, about yay high, real talkative, looks like a diseased avocado? Asking for...me."

They don’t get the chance to answer.

The sharp screech of tires cuts through the moment. A police cruiser skids to a stop just feet away. Two officers leap out, hands on their guns, voices sharp. "Stop! Put your hands where I can see—"

You sigh dramatically. "You cops always ruin the moment. Like seriously, we were having a thing here. And now it’s all guns and arrest warrants."

They weren't listening. One of them reaches for his radio. “We’ve got a situation here down at the bank wit—”

BANG

A bullet tears through his skull before he can finish the sentence.

The second officer barely has time to react before a blade pierces her throat, slicing cleanly before you yank it free. She chokes, gurgles, then crumples like a puppet with its strings cut.

You wipe a bit of blood off your arm, flicking it onto the ground like it’s nothing more than an inconvenience.

Ugh. Police blood. The worst kind.

As you stand up, you hear a low rasp leaving the officer as blood pools out her mouth. "Deadpool..."

You perk up.

Bingo.

So he does exist here.

Your fingers flex, heart pounding as your mask hides the slow wicked grin stretching across your lips.

Well...

That makes things easier.

Before you could say another word—

More sirens. More cops, pulling up fast.

The robbers panicked. Shouts leave them as their loaded guns suddenly became shaky. They weren’t ready.

But you were.

The moment the cops the slammed open their doors with raised weapons you moved.

And oh did you move.

You weren’t just fast. You were precise.

Every step, every motion, every flick of your wrist was calculated. The first officer barely took a step before you immediately fired three shots—knee, shoulder, wrist.

Two other officers went down before their fingers even tightened on their triggers.

You pivoted low and swept a leg out—an officer hit the street, head cracking against concrete as you relieved him of his gun and smoothly tossed it into the air, catching it in a backward grip as you fired behind you—

BANG

Another officer. Another down.

They kept coming. You welcomed it.

The world blurred into sharp adrenaline-fueled focus. Bullets zipped past your head, but your body moved on its own, your enhanced cognition picking up details faster than they could react.

A cop adjusting her stance—she’s aiming for your ribs. A twitch of a finger—someone’s about to fire. A shift in balance—someone’s going for their radio.

Nope. No ma'am. Not today.

Your guns clicked empty. Doesn’t matter. You threw one with perfect accuracy—CRACK. It slammed into an officer’s temple knocking her out cold. The other?

You flipped in your grip, grabbed the barrel, and used it to bludgeon another into unconsciousness before spinning and delivering a brutal elbow to the last one standing.

A dozen officers. All neutralized in less than ninety seconds.

It was messy. It was brutal. It was quick.

And it was fun.

"Alright boys," You turn back to the robbers, a new glint in your eyes as you sheath your katana and gun. "Change of plans. I was gonna spend the next however-many-months hunting my old man down, but honestly? That sounds exhausting. So instead—" You throw an arm around the nearest criminal, pulling him in. "—how ‘bout I just do crimes until he finds me?"

They exchange hesitant glances.

You can see the skepticism. The weighing of pros and cons. The uncertainty of letting some Deadpool knockoff join their ranks.

Then you sigh and make the decision for them.

With an almost lazy kind of efficiency, you move—disarming, subduing, killing one just for fun. Within seconds the ones left standing know better than to say no.

"Okay okay you can join!" he wheezes, clutching his newly dislocated shoulder. "Damn lady what’s your deal?! You tryna be Deadpool’s copycat or something?"

You grin beneath your mask.

"Oh honey," you coo, "I'm so much worse."

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Turns out they weren’t just bank robbers.

This wasn’t just a handful of small-time criminals looking for a quick payday—it was an entire crime organization clawing its way up the underworld ranks.

And with you in their arsenal, business was booming.

Crime sprees ran rampant. It wasn’t long before your exploits—masked, bloodstained, and unapologetically violent—became the subject of city-wide gossip.

Tabloids screamed about Deadpool’s sudden change.

You loved it.

Scrolling through online gossip forums was your new favorite pastime, watching people spiral into conspiracy theories:

"DEADPOOL MIND-CONTROLLED?"

"DEADPOOL GOING THROUGH HIS VILLAIN ERA™️?"

"DEADPOOL TIRED OF THE HERO CHARADE?” Some people swore it wasn’t him—“DEADPOOL...SHORTER?!”

Others didn’t care. To the world you were Deadpool. You’d made sure of that, hiding your figure under a long trench coat, avoiding any direct combat with Wade’s team whenever they did get involved in your organization’s little...projects.

You were a ghost. A rumor. A nightmare with guns.

And Wade? He was pissed.

You’d seen the interviews, the tirades he’d gone on during what should’ve been simple bounty jobs. Wade Wilson, the Deadpool, losing his shit on camera about some asshole using his name and ruining his “hard-earned” reputation.

(As if he ever fixed it in the first place? Please.)

You laughed every time. It was almost too easy.

Shame you couldn't use your own phone to watch it all—unable to connect to this world’s satellites (frequency issues, because of course) so you had to acquire other means. Luckily criminals have great taste in stolen electronics.

Speaking of criminals, seems you’d made yourself too valuable to the organization to get thrown out. The boss—a greasy smooth-talking bastard named Salvatore "Sal" DeLuca—liked results, and you brought them.

But there was one rule you made clear the moment you took the job: Nobody mentions your gender.

And if they ever had to refer to you, they called you Deadpool.

Sal agreed without hesitation. He was good at playing the long game and you were the biggest wildcard he had in his deck. His men though? They whispered....wondered.

But the rule was ironclad; if they let slip that Deadpool was anything other than what you projected—they disappeared. Simple as that.

And so, for three months, it worked.

Until her.

You’d been watching her for some time.

A new recruit—quiet, kept to herself. Didn’t quite fit the mold of a career criminal.

You noticed her immediately.

Maybe it was the way she held herself, too rigid and restrained. Maybe it was the way she avoided eye contact when people talked about bigger plans. Or maybe it was just instinct.

So you bugged her. Literally. Tiny discreet surveillance planted in her things, her living space, her routine. And what do you know?

You were right. She was a full-blown informant. A mole who worked for the police.

Correction: she worked for Wade’s team. And her name was Yukio.

You could’ve exposed her. You could've warned Sal. But you didn’t. Because this?

This was what you’d been waiting for.

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

A deal.

A simple trade-off of drugs, weapons, and money. The usual.

The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp tang of cheap cologne. Low voices murmured across the space from dealers to the occasional trigger-happy lackey trying to prove himself.

You didn’t care.

Lounging lazily in a rickety chair nearby, your legs were kicked up up on a table littered with money and gun magazines, eyes glued to your real priority: beating the final boss in Pokémon.

The Nintendo 3DS glowed faintly in your hands. (You’d robbed a nerd for this. He cried. It was great.) Its tiny speakers crackled with the upbeat jingle—stark and ridiculous contrast to the hard-edged criminals around you.

They often looked to you for some kind of assurance, that everything was going smoothly. But you weren’t their leader. You were just the guarantee.

The insurance that ensured the deal went well—because if it didn’t, nobody walked out.

And you were bored.

Yukio stood nearby, hands tucked into her sleeves with an unreadable expression. She was small and unassuming. Harmless to most eyes.

But not to you.

You knew what she was. Who she was. And that meant this deal wasn’t going to finish.

Just as you were about to land the final hit to the boss—

BOOM

The front doors detonated inward, a shockwave of dust and debris sweeping through the warehouse like a tidal wave.

The rival gang didn’t even have time to react.

Bullets ripped through them, splattering red against the walls before most even reached for their weapons. The few that did weren’t fast enough—a streak of yellow and black tore through their ranks like a living razor blade.

Logan.

The Wolverine’s claws sang through the air, slicing through flesh and bone with gruesome efficiency. A man screamed was cut short as his head separated cleanly from his shoulders and rolled to the floor with a wet thud.

Yukio moved the second the attack began.

One moment she was among your men. The next her hand sparked with electricity and she tore into them like a ghost of lightning.

The criminals you had worked beside for months were dying.

And you?

You didn’t move.

In fact you barely heard the scrambling panic around you. Your grip on the 3DS went slack, it tumbled to the ground, clattering loudly. You didn’t even notice.

Because he was here.

Deadpool...

Your father

He stood there at the center of the chaos; twin pistols raised, blades strapped to his back, mask tilted just slightly in that familiar cocky way.

The exact same mask as yours.

Your pulse spiked. You should’ve done something—anything—but you couldn’t move.

The mask...the stance....the voice.

God the voice.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Wade bellowed as he shot through a particularly unlucky gangster. “For years—YEARS—I have been trying become a better, CLASSY respectable mercenary!!”

(He absolutely did not.)

“Yet somehow, someway some ASSHOLE decides to drag my name through blood-soaked crime-encrusted filth like we’re in some goddamn GTA roleplay server?!” His arms flailed wildly as he stomped forward, stepping over a twitching half-dead body without a second glance.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY DEATH THREATS I’VE GOTTEN THIS WEEK?!”

(As if that wasn’t normal for him.)

Everything around you had blurred at this point. The violence didn’t matter. The screaming didn’t matter. The years of grief and loss and loneliness—

None of it mattered.

“—and what really gets me—truly grinds my gears—is that some DICKHEAD is using my likeness to make me look bad when I’ve worked so hard to be good! I HAVE A BRAND TO UPHOLD!”

Sal was hissing something at you to snap you out of it. Hell all of the men in the entire organization were looking at you. Because for the first time in three months, you weren’t moving.

“WELL??” Deadpool’s rant came to an abrupt end as he threw his arms out. “What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Silence.

Then—

You stood up.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The chair scraped against the concrete floor as you pushed away from it, the tension so thick it could suffocate.

Your hands came together and you began clapping.

One slow clap.

Another.

Then faster until it built into an exaggerated standing ovation. "Wow." Your voice dripped with emotion. "I..am speechless. A performance worthy of the Oscars really. I truly have no words except—"

Before anyone could react, you drew both guns in a single fluid motion and opened fire.

BANG

The first gunshot took Sal’s head clean off. His body was still standing, nerves firing uselessly even as his brain matter sprayed across the crates behind him.

BANG BANG BANG

Bullets fly and bodies drop.

The remaining rival gang? Erased.

Your so-called allies? Wiped off the map.

Some ducked for cover. Some tried to run. None of them made it far. You moved through them like a force of nature; spinning between targets, every shot landing with surgical precision.

Deadpool’s team flinched. For a split second they genuinely believed you were about to shoot at them.

Instead?

You erased every last member of the organization—the very one you had helped build up for weeks—in a perfectly executed, single-handed massacre.

The only sound left was the ringing echo of gunfire.

Your guns clicked as you brought the smoking barrels to your face to inhale the scent like it was oxygen. "Oh yeah, that's the good stuff..."

Finally holstering your weapons, you turned to Deadpool with a grin beneath your mask. A mask that was a perfect mirror image of his.

You practically bounced over to him as casual as someone greeting an old friend.

Then, in the most cheerful, sing-song voice imaginable, you threw your hands up your hands like a child and chirped—

"HI DADDY!!"

[honeyryewhiskey]

GIRLS LIKE YOU . . .

. . . REMIND ME THAT I'M LONELY

synopsis ! you catch soldierboy's eye at a penthouse party full of nyc's socialites. your daring attitude kinda pisses him off but he can’t help wanting more warnings ! smut with plot 18+, strong language, drug/alcohol use, pet names / no use of y/n, manhalding, teasing, mouth play, slight choking, fingering j's note ! this is my first sb fic if he sucks imsosorry & maybe pixie!reader the socialite will be a thing idk — inspired by the song 'girls like you' by miguel 3k words

Ben has been to enough of these parties to know better. The same overindulgent crowd, drowning in expensive liquor and bad decisions, pretending they aren't all bored out of their minds. Another penthouse after party, another round of coke laid out on a mirrored tray, another desperate attempt of the city’s richest heirs to feel like they’re worth something more.

He should leave. He tells himself to leave.

But then his eye catches on you.

Draped over a velvet couch, laughing like the world exists solely for your amusement. People flock around you, drawn in, drinking up the energy you infuse into the space. You’re all soft skin, wicked grins, and just enough mischief in your eyes to be a problem.

A fucking PR nightmare. That’s what Ashley—or any of those Vought assholes—would call you. A spoiled little socialite wasting daddy’s money on your favorite paraphernalia and bad decisions. The kind of girl he should avoid while he’s trying to rebuild his image.

But then you spot him, and for the first time all night, Ben doesn’t feel like just another overpaid, overhyped god amongst men. You look at him like he’s a thrill, not a headline.

"Soldier Boy," you purr, tilting your head as you sip from a flute of something bubbly. "Didn’t think this was your scene, we don’t usually see supes of your caliber around here."

"It’s not," he grumbles, but he doesn’t move an inch. Just looms over you, eyes raking over the delicate dress hanging off your body. It barely covers you, and normally, Ben would have something to say about that. But it shimmers, even in this dim light—like a million little stars—and all he can think about is getting beneath that galaxy.

You laugh, the sound light and playful, and hold out a hand. “Forgive me, I only know you by your supe name.”

He flashes that charming smile, the one you’ve seen plastered on billboards across the city. But up close, in the flesh, it carries a tantalizing feeling that you just want to devour. He reaches over, taking your smaller hand in his, his grasp firm as his hand swallows yours. “Ben.”

You’re no stranger to being around men who command attention—men people fawn over, obsess over. Another super-powered figure in tight spandex hardly fazes you. But this one, this man—he’s different. Dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, he almost looks normal, like he could blend into the crowd. Almost.

The way the fabric clings to his broad shoulders, how his biceps flex with the slightest movement, even his features catch the glow of the party—there’s nothing ordinary about him. He carries an effortless power, something raw and unpolished, something just barely restrained. It’s exactly the kind of energy that you want to capture and toy with just to see what happens.

Your fingers squeeze around his before you withdraw, your glossy lips curling into a devious little smile. “My friends call me Pixie.”

His brow quirks at the nickname, and he looks like he’s going to make a comment on the peculiar name. 

Before he can get a word out, the guy lounging beside you snorts, flicking the ash off his cigarette. “Yeah, ‘cause she rides dick like she’s got wings.” 

Ben’s eyes snap to him, his brows coiling in disgust. But before he can say a word, you roll your eyes and rise to your feet in one fluid motion. You don’t even look at the guy as you take Ben’s hand and tug. He gives into your pull, content on the fact that he’d happily follow you into any hidden corner of your choosing.  “Come on, hero. Let’s find some privacy.”

Ben follows your lead, watching the gentle sway of your sparkling dress as you take him out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out below, glittering like the edge of a world only the two of you exist in now.

And for the first time in a long time, Ben feels something other than numb without the help of a little upper in his system.

The party fades into a distant hum, the bass rattling through the glass as the door clicks shut behind him. Out here, the city stretches wide—dozens of lights blinking into the night sky, but Ben’s eyes are locked on you.

You sigh, stretching your arms over your head before resting them against the balcony railing. Your subtle lean over the bar pulls the fabric of your dress just enough to distract him, but you act like you don’t notice—or maybe you do. Either way, you flash him a lazy, knowing smile.

"So, Ben," you murmur, rolling his name off you tongue like it was always meant to come from your lips. You tilt your head up towards him, curiosity dancing in your gaze. "What’s got you out and about with the city’s finest?"

He huffs a laugh, taking his time drinking in the sight of your silhouette against the banister before stepping up beside you.

"Needed to get away from those fucking Vought robots," he mutters, his voice rough, eyes still tracing the slope of your neck and shoulders. He can’t help the wandering thoughts, wondering just how soft your skin would feel in his mouth. He clears his throat, "they’ve got all these rules for supes now—fucking suffocating."

A giggle rolls out of you, light and teasing. It stokes the fire you’ve started in him, warming him from the inside out. "Is that so?"

Pushing off the railing, you scan the patio, searching for something. Ben watches as you drift toward a low table where a glass tray sits—papers, a round container, all the right tools. It's a neat sitting area tucked into the corner, with the perfect view, nestled against the side railing.

You glance at him over your shoulder, mouth curving in that wicked little smile again as you crook a finger.

"Come along," your voice ripples like silk. "I’ve got just what you need."

And just like that, he’s following without a second thought, settling onto the cushioned bench beside you.

The first hit settles in your lungs, warm and slow, before you exhale toward the sky. The city sprawls beneath you and for the first time tonight, you feel excited to pick apart someone’s brain. You pass the joint to Ben, watching as he takes it between rough fingers, bringing it to his lips.

You lean your head back to reel in the substance mixing with the alcohol in your bloodstream. Letting the cool night air kiss your skin. “So, what’s the story, golden boy? Do you always do what Vought tells you?”

Ben rolls his jaw, taking a slow drag before flicking the ash into a nearby tray. When he scoffs, a puff of smoke ripples around you. “A little princess like you sure is one to fuckin’ talk,” he shakes his head, sucking in another hit, “You always do what Daddy tells you?”

That makes you laugh—genuine, unrestrained—and you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax just slightly. You tilt your head towards him, catching his hardened stare, “depends who you’re talking about,” you murmur, a teasing smile playing at your lips. “But I meant it. This whole America’s hero act. Is it really you?”

His lips curl into a lazy smile, head tilting as he rolls the words around in his head. “I’m a simple man. What you see is what you get, Pixie.”

You hum, unconvinced, the bare skin of your thigh brushes against his jeans as you recross them. The movement catches his eye, as he unabashedly watches the way the hem of your dress hikes higher from the resposition. “I don’t know,” you sigh, looking him over like the answer is somewhere between his pretty lips and wide shoulders. “I think there’s more under all that muscle and ego.”

His eyes drag over you, slow and assessing, like he’s deciding whether he gives a damn about what you think. He doesn’t, not genuine at least. But he’s certainly enjoying watching your pretty little brain try to pluck him apart. “Uh, huh,”  he grumbles, passing the blunt into your hand, “and what is it you think you see?”

You take another hit, watching the smoke curl toward the sky before flicking your gaze back to him. “A man who likes being in control, hates being told anything about himself.” 

You reach over to poke two nails into his chest, the cherry of the blunt burning between your extended fingers. “But there’s somethin’ in here, something I could play with.” 

His expression shifts, scowl giving way to amusement as his eyes bore into yours. Theres a subtle movement in his lap—the faintest twitch of his fingers, like he wants to reach up and crush the hand making accusations at his heart. His eyes twitch, jaw flexing with his indecision. 

Instead, he just nods, “you got me all figured out, huh?” His tone dips, rougher now.

“Not yet,” you correct with a flick of your wrist, passing the joint back to him. This time, when he reaches for it, you don’t let go right away. Your fingers brush. A pause. He watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth before letting go.

“And what about you?” the smoke pools from his parted lips. “What’s your deal?”

You stretch, the straps of your dress slipping just slightly. His eyes track the fall of strings, the slight sagging material at the center reveals more of the skin of your chest, amusement flickering across his face.

“I just like to have a good time,” you shrug, leaning onto your hands in a slight invasion of his space. “And right now, you look like a very good time.”

His grip on the joint tightens, the muscles of his jaw popping beneath skin—and you know you’ve got him.

You lean closer, tilting your chin up to him, “You gonna keep eye-fucking me all night,” you tease, “or you gonna do something about it?”

Ben exhales slowly, smoke curling past his lips as he leans back, one arm draped lazily over the back of the bench. But the other hand—his fingers, thick and scarred, rest just within reach of your thigh.

His smirk deepens, eyes dark and full of a slow-burning warning. “Princess,” he drawls, voice like gravel and honey, “you keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you want something from me.”

You tilt your head, your own smirk playing at the edges of your lips as you lean further, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “And if I do?”

Ben doesn’t answer. Not with words.

His hand moves fast, rough fingers sliding beneath your jaw, pushing your chin up just enough to make you catch your breath. His thumb drags over your lips, pressing down just enough to part them.

"You talk too much," he mutters, before sliding his thumb into your mouth.

You hum in amusement, letting your tongue flick over the pad of his finger before sucking lightly, playing along. His eyes stay trained on your rounded lips, a slow smile etching across his features. But just as he starts to enjoy it, you sink your teeth in—not enough to hurt, just enough to test him.

Ben's expression falls instantly, a sharp rage flashing in those green irises. His jaw tenses, a slow exhale through his nose, and for a split second, you think maybe you pushed too far—

Then you giggle, all sweet and innocent as you pull away, leaning back like you hadn’t just pressed every single one of his buttons.

Ben’s never been a patient man, never had to be. As quickly as you leave his space, his restraint snaps.

The blunt is flicked into the ashtray—forgotten. Strong hands clamp onto your hips, and before you can react, he plucks you from your seat like you weigh nothing, dragging you into his lap with a rough pull.

A startled laugh escapes you, hands bracing against his chest, but Ben just smirks up at you, his grip firm, possessive. He’s staring at you with a challenge, like he’s daring you to keep pushing him. 

"You think you're funny, huh?" His voice is thick, low, teasing as his fingers dig into your thighs. "Keep it up, dollface, and I’ll show you what’s really fucking funny."

You roll your eyes, lips curling into a near-pout. "Quit threatening me and do something about it, Ben. Like a real man."

His smirk falters, replaced by a scowl as his fingers tighten around your hips. The pressure hurts, but it's enough to let you know you’ve hit a nerve. Something raw. Something real.

It makes your head spin.

The air between you crackles, charged with the reckless thrill of toying with a man who could easily snap you in half. It's a rush you've been craving, stronger than any drug or drink coursing through your veins.

Ben’s thumb drags slowly along your hip, deliberate, before his other hand fists in your hair, tugging just enough to make your chin tilt up with a whimper. His other hand seizes both your wrists, locking you into place.

"Helpless," he murmurs, eyes devouring the sight of your half-lidded gaze, your lips parted just slightly. When your hips roll against his lap, he makes a low sound in his throat—a mix between a chuckle and a warning.

"You’re a fucking trip."

Without hesitation, he pulls you forward, crashing his mouth against yours.

The kiss is hot, wild—teeth clashing, lips parting, and his grip on you is so firm it feels like he's staking his claim. His hands tighten in your hair, pulling you down harder against him, as if he wants you closer. Needs you closer.

He lets go of your wrists and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the back of his neck. You grind against his hardening bulge, the friction making you moan in his mouth.

The sound only makes him kiss back harder, a messy fight of lips trying to claim dominance over one another.

You bite his bottom lip, just to tease, to see how far you can push him—but it backfires. He growls, hands moving swiftly as he flips you, slamming you against the railing. Your knees dig into the bench as he presses against your back.

"You just don’t know when to quit, do you?" His voice is rough, laced with something wicked.

You smile at him over your shoulder, breathless. "Not when I’m winning."

Ben chuckles low and dark, his hands trailing your dress up and over you with deliberate slowness. "Pretty thing, you’re not winning." His lips brush your ear as his voice drops to a husky whisper.

"I’m just getting started."

With your dress shoved up over your hips, you gasp at the quick sound of fabric ripping. Your panties fall, torn past the point of fixing. 

The air feels cool against newly exposed skin, and Ben wastes no time—his rough fingers rubbing your slick folds. The sudden pressure makes you gasp, clutching onto the railing as your mind flutters. 

“Like a real man, huh?” he gruffs, your comment from earlier evidently still taking up too much space in his mind, “you’ve got some fucking nerve saying that shit to me, y’know that?” 

You open your mouth to try and respond, but it’s cut off by his other hand coming up to wrap around your neck. He grips tight, pulling you forward in one hand and shoving two fingers inside of you with the other. The railing digs into the top of your rib cage, but you can hardly notice the pain from it when he’s working you with his moving hand.

The sounds falling from your lips are pathetic and needy, but it makes Ben’s pants tighter to hear you melting into his touch. Your arousal coats his fingers as he shoves his knuckles inside, not an ounce of his movements are gentle. 

But it makes your knees weak and pussy weep to receive his frustrated aggression. 

His fingers retract, but the absence is quickly replaced by the pads of his fingers pressing into you clit. He works circles on your sensitive spot that makes you lean down into his touch—but the movement is corrected by the quick slap of his wet fingers to your core. 

You damn near yelp in response. “Nuh, uh,” he huffs, the hand around your neck pulling your body forward again, half your body over the railing now. You have to screw yours eyes shut to keep from looking down where the ground is a dizzying distance from where you lean over the balcony. 

You keep still, save for your hands clinging to his wrist by your neck. “Good girl,” he chuckles, his fingers back to working circles on your clit like it’s a praise for listening to him. 

“You like this shit don’t you?” he chides, “being a fuckin’ brat until you get what you want.” 

You merely hum back, eyes fluttering closed again as he slips his fingers back inside, your walls instantly clenching around his thick digits as his movements become harder. 

His grip around your neck tightens, stealing just enough air to make your mind go spotty for a second, “didn’t catch that princess.” 

“Yes,” you mumble, your thighs instinctively closing together as the knot forms deep in your core. His strength makes it easy for him to pump his hand in and out of you faster, harder. 

As his fingers curl inside of you as he moves, making you whimpering again, practically humping his hand. The sight ignites an amusement within him that devours the rage you tempted out of him. 

It was worth it, he decided, letting you piss him off was worth this sight of you pathetic and needing him for a release. 

He releases his grip on your neck to wrap your hair around his fist, tugging enough to make tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. “‘m not fucking you, yet,” he decides out loud, eyes watching the needy buck of your hips into his hand, “I wanna see you cum like this, for me.” 

You whimper again, “but—“ you breathe, but it’s cut off by his grunt as he tugs your hair.

“Nuh, uh,” in one swift movement he releases your hair, slipping his hand around your waist to claim your sensitive clit beneath his fingers while his other hand pumps into you mercilessly. 

It’s almost overstimulating to have both his hands on you like this, your thighs pressed tight together and the knot in your core breaks under his touch. 

“Fuck, Ben,” you’re panting as your release makes your legs shake. Your hand clutching his arm to hold yourself up. 

As your mind comes back down to earth, Ben’s breathy chuckle fills the air, rich and smug. He steps back, keeping just out of reach, watching you like a predator amused by his prey. The city lights cast sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw, the smirk twisting his lips. His hair is a little messier now, a few strands falling over his forehead, and his chest rises and falls with the steady rhythm of someone who always gets what he wants.

When you shift to sit properly on the bench, he stands over you, broad shoulders blocking out the city skyline, the joint back between his fingers. Taking a slow, deliberate drag, he watches you through half-lidded eyes, sharp and assessing, like he’s still deciding whether to ruin you or let you stew in your own anticipation for more of him.

Then, with practiced ease, he catches your jaw in his free hand, tilting your chin up, forcing your gaze to his. His palm is rough, warm, his grip just firm enough to remind you who’s in control. He exhales smoke past your parted lips as he leans in. “I think you and me could have a helluva lot more fun.”

His head tilts, tongue running along his bottom lip as his gaze drags over your face, hungry and contemplative. Like he’s measuring your worth. Testing you. “What’d you think, princess?”

Your breath still stutters, but that little devious smile creeps back onto your lips as you nod—slow, teasing, full of promise.

Ben’s lazy smile stretches wider, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth before pulling away. His voice dips, low and rough. “That’s what I thought.”

And just as easily as he reeled you in, he steps back, leaving you with the slow burn of anticipation, the feel of being in his grasp etched into your mind.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @soldiersgirl @jollyhunter @ultravi0lence14 @ultravi0lence14

if i may yap once more. . . i’m envisioning a dynamic of reader and sb getting hooked on each other like a bad drug. obsessive, pushing the boundaries, messy, i think this could be fuuunnn 🤭

[writtenendings]

sun will rise up and sew us in its dreams | Neil/Kevin/Andrew | rating: T | word count: 15k

This close, Neil can see every colour of these hazel eyes, see the minute shifts of his pupil and feel the careful breath puff against his cheek. “Curious,” He says it in a low voice, ridiculous for the current situation. Doesn’t he know he’s in danger? In the next second, Andrew grips Neil’s wrist, hard, which makes him drop the knife. Before Neil can go in with his nails and scratch at that stupidly smug face, a cold hand latches firmly onto his upper arm. “Enough,” Kevin Day says, in that voice that carries the weight of the forest. Neil rounds on him. “I will separate you from that hand with my teeth,” He only barely resists showing him the teeth in question, even if the glamour has made them seem rounded and human.

Neil follows his mother’s final wish to trade a pawn for a different piece and take himself off the board entirely. Neil goes into the woods, but steps off the path. He finds exactly what he was looking for, and a whole lot more. An AFTG mixtape fic based on the song "We Cut the Night" by AaRON, which takes the Little Red Riding Hood tale and makes it just a little bit more magical.

a @aftg-mixtape fic inspired and titled after the song "We Cut the Night" by AaRON for @lisfairys

listening to this song and analyzing the lyrics, I could not get the image of Neil as Red Riding Hood out of my mind, and from there flowed the idea of him in the snowy woods one night running from the Wolf. Once I thought of introducing the Seelie and Unseelie Courts of faeries to the mix, the plot got thicker than I meant it to. Enjoy!

[dcdreamblog]

Hey there! I've been reading your blog for a little bit now, and I've been trying to think of questions to ask about the supers of my homestate (Texas!) and I realized there aren't all that many that come from here aside from Blue Beetle. I'm sure there's probably some that you'd know of from before my time if you wouldn't mind enlightening me lol

Thanks in advance!

Well of course, spreading knowledge is the best part of doing what I do after all!

(The most recent Selfie on the Blue Beetle's Instagram page, which currently sits at about 12.92 million followers making him the 3rd most popular superhero run social media page ever) The most famous Texan hero, like you said is the 3rd Blue Beetle who operates out of El Paso on the state's extreme western edge. As I've said before his connection to the other Blue Beetles is unknown but he has been seen working with the second Blue Beetle during his recent return to activity.

He is of course beloved by the state's, the country's and the world's Latino community as most likely the most visible Spanish speaking superhero of all time. He's been a member of the Teen Titans through multiple runs in good standing and is considered, in general, a highly beloved member of the superhero community's next generation. Predictions that he will eventually grow into a position within the core Justice League are rampant and easily justified.

As for more obscure offerings...

(An image of El Diablo attacking gangster, The Amarillo Globe-News) As one can imagine, Texas was a hot spot during the Wild West era for gunslingers and masked law men. One of whom was the mysterious Lazarus Lane AKA El Diablo. Nobody knows for certain whether the motorcycle riding protector of the panhandle town Dos Rios (located about 65 miles south of Amarillo) is related to Lane or simply inspired by him but the Amarillo area has him to thank for much of its safety into the modern day.

Also obviously Latino and often seen speaking in fluent Spanish no truly superhuman abilities have ever been glimpsed aside from a near military grade custom motorcycle and a killer right hook. And last but not least, my favorite.

(An image of Air Wave, in his energy form, responding to a brush fire just outfit Dallas)

The second hero to call himself Air Wave works out of Dallas in the state's northeast. With the ability to transform himself into living electrical energy and radio waves he carries on proudly in the image of his predecessor. His "fan base" being what it is is limited, though he is often known as Dallas' favorite son. I've been told by those from the Southwest you can tell that he's not native to Texas and I've been told by other people that you can tell he was born or originally raised in Brooklyn, some things you never lose I guess. There are a few more unknown ones here or there but those three are the most active and the most effective that I've seen coming out of the Lone Star State at some point in the last century!

[vespaer77]

Yeeee!!! I haven't written for a while, there's been a death in my family. (I'm okay, it wasn't immediate family, but there's a lot of people who don't speak to my dad and I'm his only point of contact so things have been busy. And in all fairness, my dad made his own bed. I'm his PoC because someone needs to be.)

So I'll put a little more on here because 1) my last line deserves a little more context, lol and 2) posting will inspire me to finish.

When she looked up from her wandering feet, she found she'd plodded her way past a cold and empty hearth, one that used to bake its warmth into a heavy wooden table set with flagons of mead and ale, and bread and cheese, and a quill with ink and reams of parchment paper. It was a place where stories were told, where fires of friendship stoked camaraderie, now vacant aside from cobwebs and ash. And through the darkness beyond it was the rotunda, lying in wait like a knife poised to strike. Its walls were covered in images of the same story, her story, like a disguise, like a cleverly crafted deception, but its last panel was unfinished. Nothing more than a faint outline. An uncommitted possibility. A freedom to change the outcome. A silent plea for help. He did not want to do this. But Pride could not allow him to stop. And he could only be what he was. But he was not an answer to her prayers. She was the answer to his. She was the answer for so many. Which only left her back where she started. So she turned around once more.

I don't know if I have many moots who've been writing in any Bioware fandoms, but it is so important to keep writing regardless so I'm gonna tag folks that I know have been writing at some point in my own fanfic journey, if that's okay.

And if you haven't written in a while, that's okay too! I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you and you have made an impact on my life somewhere along the line, even if we don't know each other personally. Sometimes it's just nice to be tagged <3

@morby @lanafofana @orangekittyenergy @waterdeep-weavemoss @waterdeepwhiskey @thedissonantverses @dr-demi-bee

(10min from now I'll think of about 19 other people I should've added here but I have to jump off)

Last Line Written!

Thanks @pavuslavellan, @biowaredisasterbisexual, @mageofquandrix, @fangbangerghoul for the tags!

Earlier I was like oh =( I didn't write that much this week bc I've been so busy idk if I have anything =(

But then I realized I wrote that miserable angsty part of Leth's fic bc that's my fave stuff to write 😈

Viago makes an involuntary, wounded sound.

That is an astonishingly succinct sentence, for me lmao

hmmm unsure who has been tagged, so forgive me if you've already played! @dymme @uchidachi @covertleathers @vespaer77 @pixiedurango @bygonesigh

[shepscapades]

Revenge :3 In which Season 10 (dbhc) Bdubs gets a new fit and one person is decidedly Not Very Normal about it + the original concept sketch :]

(Referencing this post!)