#it was meant to be something else! and then it fit the prompt lol

[writing-whump]

Sol, consider this little scenario - pups training goes more or less like planned, but then Dylan puts himself (involuntarily even?) in some kind of *situation* with human locals (alcohol included?) - what causes an outburst of protectiveness in Rip.🔥 (remembering his background ...) And then, of course, brothers have to deal with all this mess. 🙃

I would love to see some Rip POV. 👀

🐾.

Holding the beast

Really cool prompt, thank you! :D Some Isaiah pov at the start, then Rip's.

"Stay loose until the moment of impact, Rip. The tension slows you down," Isaiah said.

Hector gave him an angry look. "Oh, he will get it when he loses. Shut up."

Isaiah rolled his eyes. At least arrogant remarks like that made Isaiah feel a bit better about giving someone advice against his own brother. "Break his rhythm. You are letting him decide the beat of the whole fight."

Rip was breathing hard, but he was still light on his feet. Hector didn't bother moving around that much, standing his ground instead. Perfect target.

Isaiah could tell it was confusing for Rip's shadow that someone would just invite him to be for an attack.

Matthew was panting behind them, though he seemed the least tired conditionally, the way his muscles were in constant tension were a big tell of how exhausting the focus was.

Matt wouldn't let loose at all. Isaiah was tempted to just make a separate fight between the two of them to get his best friend of that painful holding back clench up he was in.

At first, Isaiah was a little worried about his stamina on the vacation. Meds or not, he was still weaker than he was used to, and he couldn't exactly push himself very much with Matt and Seline behind his back like that.

True to their word, Dylan and Seline knew about a beach behind the seaport lined up with rocks that was too uncomfortable and far away for most visitors. It had just enough space for the four of them to spar in and they could also use the shallow waters there.

It was September, so the beaches were way emptier than they should have been and completely empty during the cold mornings at 7 a.m. Hector, Matthew, Isaiah, Rip and Dylan made their way there every day. It was usually to tire Rip out, push him to his limits.

Hector didn't let Isaiah spar with Rip at all, effectively side-lining him to only watching. Was it part of the silent agreement to keep Isaiah from lifting a finger after the whole heart attack scare? Maybe Hector just enjoyed barking orders that much. Especially when he could override Isaiah.

As it was, Hector and Matthew then switched around in fighting, with and without shadows. Dylan tagged along, curious, but it was clear even to a newbie like him that he could no compete with the shadow level at display.

"Could I spar with Matthew then?" Dylan suggested feebly. While the kid was enthusiastic about physical combat, he was mesmerised by Rip's movements. Isaiah doubted Dylan could muster up enough focus for his own fight.

Surprisingly, Hector was rather gracious about the whole thing. He let Matthew and Rip spare after taking the first rounds for himself and then entertained Dylan with close-ranged hand-to-hand combat.

Dylan was good at boxing and in a good shape. Rip was out of shape since his injury, but the muscle memory and experience, adding with the sheer speed and harmony with his shadow were quite the combo.

He made Hector sweat, and that was something to see.

Rip had no formal training, which meant his style was unpredictable, dirty and deadly. It wasn't meant to be a friendly sparring with no results. His shadow kept aiming for deadly blows, completely out of control about intents in the midst of a fight.

Isaiah flinched several times when it happened, watching Hector like a hawk, ready to intervene. But Hector could hold his own.

Still, Isaiah would rather not let Rip spare with anyone else if he could help it. Not even Dylan...though Rip's shadow seemed incapable of attacking Dylan at all.

Strange dynamic.

Even in packs, fights were a healthy necessity. Training, play, negotiation of strength in the hierarchy, updating roles. It served all kinds of purposes, helping packmates recognize their strengths and weaknesses, improve and know what to cover in everyone's defenses during outsider fights.

There was usually something not working if two wolves couldn't have a sparring fight like that.

Not that Isaiah was an ideal example. He and Hector had to yet have a proper 'fight' since their reconciliation. Rip's shadow was way too aggressive around Isaiah, he didn't dare train Dylan directly with his lack of experience with huge shadows...

Honestly, the only one Isaiah sparred with regularly and enjoyed it with was Matthew. They have been able to do it since way back when. Isaiah couldn't remember their first friendly fight and didn't count them either. Another sign of how much he trusted him.

Maybe he should remind his second of that fact.

Matthew seemed…off. His red hair, plastered with sweat, curled in ways it usually didn’t, and the sunrise deepened the shadows under his eyes. Instead of challenging Hector, Matt followed his lead, letting him decide when to step in and when to stop.

Isaiah wondered if Matt wanted to be helpful that much that he had given up on any strategies of his own. If Hector was that overwhelming for him. Or if this was all done in the name of temporary truce to keep Isaiah from doing anything.

Hector's insistence with the training was puzzling. Isaiah couldn't find any signs that his brother was personally interested in the boy, even if he respected his skill.

Training with Hector was a special thing—as a branch leader he didn't gift that time and expertise to just anybody. Whoever Hector choose to spend attention on would count as his apprentice, as first in line for him to command, to trust, to give power to.

Doing this outside the pack? For a stray pup nonetheless? Impossible.

It was personally irritating to Isaiah that he couldn't quite tell what Hector was thinking. His ignorance and the years apart were painfully obvious in moments like these. He would have to swallow his pride and just ask Arnie about it.

If there was one comforting and not headache-inducing person in their little group, it was his girlfriend. Seline and her love for the sea.

"You can't tell me this isn't the true kind of magic. Witches and shadows are nothing compared to this," she told him on their walks.

She woke up early even though she liked to sleep in just to walk by the shore the wet sand and look over the tender waves of the morning stillness. Seaport was her second favourite place where she regularly showed him jellyfish and hundreds little fish swimming by the surface.

For a crowded sweaty sand beach, Isaiah had to admit the connection to nature was something very present. The sea creatures were everywhere, not shy around their human intruders. Somehow they accepted them as part of the world here, where the surface and the underwater collided. It was a welcome feeling for wolves.

When Seline wasn't swimming—her technique, polished from years as a competitive swimmer—she was walking along the shore or standing ankle-deep in the water, gazing at the horizon with a wistful smile.

Early mornings and evenings, when the beaches were still empty, she sang.

Witch magic resonating with something as vast as the sea was extremely difficult. Isaiah thought it was more sentimental than actually magical.

Except as the days went, he could see the waves responding to her. Speeding up and slowing at her command, with whatever rhythm she chose. The wind would pick up or still. The flow of the water would change, diving under, the colour darkening in strangely symmetrical shapes like triangles.

Thanks to her Isaiah didn't mind being sidelined that much. Walking hand in hand, enjoying lunch on the beach restaurants, exploring all the different beaches one after another while talking and talking...she didn't let him dwell on the training for too long. They discussed it, but their topics tended to get more abstract.

It was also a great way to get privacy since Hector only snarled and complained of useless nonsense whenever he tried to overhear.

Arnie didn't find the sea that fascinating. Actually, he spend most of the first week sulking. He woke up around noon, had lunch with them, trailed after Hector if he had nothing better to do or explored the town hotels. The historical little city of Nessebar had nice views and streets to offer. Arnie came with bags of souvenirs and clothes, cashmere scarfs and pelt coats.

Or he dragged Isaiah and Seline onto boat trips to all the nearest destinations. It was the three of them or Arnie at home with Hector binging some kind of show or two.

Isaiah wasn’t sure if Arnie avoided Dylan and Rip because they were younger or if it was something else. Back in the pack, Arnie would’ve been bullied without Hector’s protection. His sharp mouth developed to provoke reactions from people who otherwise ignored him. Isaiah used to worry about Arnie making friends. Seeing him grown and still isolated made it all too real.

"Ehmm...can I ask, how is this helping?" Dylan said, leaning towards Isaiah like it was a secret. "He was impressive before, so you making him better...is...eh?"

"I'm making him comfortable fighting with wolves with no stakes involved. Plus his shadow has a lot of pent up energy since the injury that needs an out."

Dylan grimaced at the word 'no stakes'. Of course, there were plenty of stakes for Dylan. None like the ones Rip was used to though.

Rip might have been improving through this, but he was also showing them how he worked. What he thought, fought and what he covered from. The best possible presentation of how to beat him.

But truly, Isaiah wanted to get to the core of the control problem. Safety, training, energy...what else was there? How much would it take for Rip not to feel threatened or to redirect that to the older wolves behind him than at the helpless people in front of him?

There was no logic to the fear and agression. That's what made it dangerous, tiptoeing on shadow madness.

Honestly, part of the training was also the vacation itself. Mundane situations. Eating food outside. Rediscovering the things Rip liked that had nothing to do with survival.

A decision had to be made.

Either Rip would trust them enough to stay, or he would leave. Both seemed equally likely.

Rip's human logical side wanted to please, heavy by debts and guilt. Yearning to succumb and to listen and be as little of a burden as possible.

The shadow side of him wanted to kill them.

It was convinced they were either going to hurt him or use him for something terrible as payment for the help. Every kind gesture felt like another trap.

Isaiah watched this and understood it more and more. That was the worst part for him: that his father could be kind and loving, that Isaiah had such great memories of him. He spent all his childhood wanting to be like him.

Moments of connection and conversations switching with the yelling, the pain and the humiliation. One face and then another, with no order, no way to tell what was coming next time.

Was it like that for you, too? Was your father a nice guy when he wasn't drunk? When he wasn't beating you up? Did he apologize afterwards? Was he a different person when the fit ended?

He couldn't ask something like that outright. But he caught himself wanting to. Hand outstretched, the question on his lips. Taking a breath and then shutting his mouth. It was so strange. Isaiah never talked about this with anyone. Never cared to. What good would it bring? If he wanted to cope, he could write a diary. Everyone else would be just hurt by what they heard.

Not Rip though. Watching him made Isaiah wonder if he could bring the kid any relief by simply understanding. Or maybe not. It wasn't like he could take the kid to therapy and his own studies didn't exactly specialise in wolves.

He would just have to wait and see.

...

By the time they walked from the beach to the apartments, Rip was exhausted. Physically, he felt good—his strength was returning, and every landed hit made him feel less helpless.

But there was also the other tiredness. The mental one, from decisions, from watching and being careful. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what these wolves wanted from him.

Was this all Dylan's doing? How could he believe that, when Dylan obviously had no power or influence over these wolves? Heck, he knew less about them than Rip did from the rumors.

Was this on Isaiah's orders? Doubtful. Hector Wolfson— who, by the way, didn't seem like a younger of anyone and anything, born strong and muscular and intimidating—was still figuring out too. His interest in Rip was superficial and conditioned by the Executioner's. Rip could tell as much.

Then what was he doing here? Was this an experiment? Charity? Who would have time and energy to spare for a nobody edging on craziness?

The idea they were, maybe possibly, unbelievably, good people doing him a favour made him feel bad. He had no way to pay this back.

The other option, that there was a secret intent behind this, made him feel worse.

His door wasn't guarded. His windows were open. He could run anyway he wanted. Bulgaria wasn't a bad place to start over. Corrupt little country that lived from tourism from the sea, filled with mafia families. He could disappear. The choas of the Balkan states, their disrespect for rules, the heated tempers of the people here—it made more sense than whatever this training was.

Rip found Dylan with his eyes, staring at his back. Dylan's little jumps as he walked couldn't be called walking at all. Always so much energy. So childish, so naive.

Rip grit his teeth. The third tiredness he felt was the rawness around his ribcage whenever he thought of Dylan. Of leaving him. Of staying with him. He was so innocent. But surely as he grew and gained the smartness to handle this world, he would come to understand who Rip was. Who he decided to save.

And then he would abandon Rip. Fair enough. The question was, should Rip wait around until that happened just to not feel any regrets?

"Finally!" Dylan stopped in his tracks, making Rip almost knock into him. "Ice cream. This looks good! Rip, want some?"

Rip cringed. They were going to disturb the formation.

The witch and the human brother went ahead to get them dinner. The Executioner and the Wolfson heir were at the front and the Executioner's Second trailed behind Rip and Dylan. Rip, really. Anyone could see how easy it was for Dylan to move between the tourists. Like he didn't notice they were humans.

Or maybe he forgot he was a wolf. Again.

A small smile tugged at Rip's lips. "Sure."

Dylan leaned over the ice creams where a very big and very bored looking man played with his phone. "Now want to pick...coconut, punch, pineapple, oreo, caramel, Nutella, chocolate, snickers..."

"Aren't the last three the same thing?" Rip stepped closer shaking his head.

"Of course not! Completely different flavours, man. Such a shame they don't have salty caramel, that one is the best-"

"What did you say?" The rough voice behind the ice creams startled them both.

"Ehmm, I was saying the ice cream-"

"You don't like my ice cream or what, you little punk?"

Rip hung back, separated from the human by the stand and Dylan, but the man’s tone made his hair stand on end. 'Let’s go, D,' he murmured, tugging Dylan’s arm.

"I didn't say that! I just meant that you don't have all the flavours popular at Sunny Beach or Nessebar right now, that's all." Dylan obviously didn't get the hint.

The guy's face went red. He made his way out of the stand, towering over both of them. "How dare you insult my ice cream, you-"

A shiver ran down Rip's spine despite the warm weather.

"It's just ice cream! What's the big deal?" Dylan said, rolling his shoulders. He was muscular and tall, but compared to the man he had a slim boyish figure. "You shouldn't be yelling at customers Mister, you will just chase them away-"

Why weren't the other wolves doing anything? Rip couldn't let himself check though. He couldn't drop his gaze from the man reaching his hand back to throw a punch-

There was a moment of darkness. Like a sudden hit of an eclipse. When Rip's vision returned, he was holding the guy's fist in his own in an iron grip.

The guy's large face was red with strain. He was pushing against Rip's palm with his whole body.

Rip felt a wave of repulsion so strong he thought he was going to be sick right in that moment.

He had not touched a human in years. His shadow was drilling its way out in the open. Rip couldn't let it. He couldn't let his shadow touch this person or he would be dead in a heartbeat.

Even so. He could not move away and risk him touching Dylan. That was the main priority.

He curled his fingers around the offending wrist in his hand. Just a slight twist and he could break it. He could make him kneel. He could rip the hand off in one smooth motion-

"What's the problem, sir?"

The Executioner's voice was smooth and calm, yet somehow snapped Rip's attention back to the present. The presence behind him radiated coldness, icy and intense. Alarming in the sunset heat.

"I-....He-...!" The guy was splattering for thoughts, obviously understanding how Rip felt. How could Isaiah say a word, sound that calm and scare the living consciousness out of someone?

A hand landed on his shoulder. It wasn't a friendly touch, but the bridge to the ice wastelands of the other world. Rip froze, stepping away at the same time as the guy stopped struggling, hand dropping to his side.

Isaiah snapped his fingers. "Take them home."

Then the steely grip on his shoulder turned Rip around. Back to the beach. Away from people, civilization, the easy summer vibes.

They didn't stop at the beach though. "Move. Up the hill, come on." Isaiah commanded.

And Rip listened. His body went on autopilot as he tried to keep his boiling shadow in check.

They went up the hill and then another one. It was just grass and bushes and a beautiful view of the water behind them. The combination of hills and the sea so typical of this landscape.

At the top of it, Rip was panting from running up for so long and so fast. He braced against his knees before dropping down to them.

He fucked up. He could have killed that man. Why would he go and try to start a fight over ice cream? Jesus, that made no sense.

Rip wrapped his hands around his head, bowing to the ground. The repulsion rolled through him, leaving sticky nausea behind. His skin was crawling under his sweaty shirt.

"I'm sorry," he managed to get out between unruly breaths. "I wouldn't have- I shouldn't have-"

"You better not," Isaiah agreed. "Don't think we are far enough for you to risk direct contact yet."

"I'm sorry." If Isaiah reconsidered and judged him too dangerous for this vacation—hell, for this city—he could kill him right there.

Was that why he wanted privacy?

Rip gulped down heavily, bile climbing up his throat.

"Wasn't your fault. That was extremely out-of-nowhere." Isaiah sighed. "Seline said people here have short tempers. And the whole area seems to be owned by some kind of mafia family. I underestimated the situation."

Rip dared to look up for a second. Was Isaiah apologizing or something?

"You have been doing well. You just need to build your confidence back up-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Rip interrupted. His shadow was wiggling and crying out, wanting to attack Isaiah for pretending like this was okay. "I know you must have noticed."

Isaiah pressed his lips together, hands crossed on his chest. "Your shadow's killing intent during the fighting? Yes." He sounded way too unconcerned about it.

"And just now. I did the same thing."

"Considering your backround, that was a trauma response more than anything else. You didn't even let your shadow up."

Rip froze, realizing that was true. While thinking about striking back and imagining it, he did it without reaching for his shadow first.

"It's okay. I won't let that happen again," Isaiah said. He sounded almost...soothing. Like Rip wasn't a murderer, a wild animal fit for killing, but a scared hurt child. Trauma response. Yeah, sure.

"Why- why bring me here?" If Isaiah wasn't about to kill him, what was the point?

Isaiah's shoulders dropped. "Let go."

"What?!"

"Just let go. It's safe from people. No one's watching. Don't...hold it in." He rubbed at his chest with one hand before making himself drop both at his sides. "I always did. It will add up and hurt you in some other way. Like the migraine, remember?"

Rip took a sharp breath, lowering his head again. What was that supposed to mean?

If he could do whatever he felt like doing, though...his body would have ideas. The waver in his will was enough for the hot bile to shoot up his throat. Rip retched into the grass, stomach muscles constracting violently.

His shadow whirled out and around at the same time as the second lurch brought up his lunch. He had a lot of food to bring up since he got under this weird pack's protection.

The waves of disgust and nausea rolled through him so intensely he forgot what he was supposed to be upset about. His skin burned and itched where he held the man's hand. His shadow clawed into the ground in a way Rip would be scared to look at. It was too furious. Out of control.

When he stopped convulsing over the ground with dry heaves, it was way after sundown, and violet darkness blanketed the beautiful view from the hill.

The Executioner was leaning against an old tree. Hands still crossed, expression unreadable. But his green eyes were clear and open. Attentive.

There was no yelling, threats, or critique. Somehow, the wolf's quiet presence didn't feel icy or overwhelming. He wasn't trying to be intimidating. Whatever he was trying to do, Rip didn't feel judged or evaluated. If anything, he felt empty. Hollowed raw.

But at least he didn't feel like exploding.

[finnbbl]

Hey, I saw your requests are open. Would you write something for 3Racha where something sad happens and the reader turns non-verbal to try and cope with it?

It's just a problem that I always have and I would like to know how you think the boys would react :)

3Racha when you’re nonverbal

3Racha Written

Prompt: Being friends with the main producers of a music group had its perks. But when you’re asked to accompany them a certain gathering, you hesitate when you figure out who will be there.

Genre: Angst/Comfort

Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Implications of trauma, alcohol and dr*g mention, I don’t think there’s any swearing, reader goes nonverbal.

A/N: I wanted to first start off by saying I apologize it took me a bit to get out. I’ve been in my own slump and I’ve found it super hard to find motivation for anything, especially writing and posting.

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a specific incident to happen where the reader goes non verbal, so I hope this is okay. I also wasn’t sure if you wanted it romantic or not, so I just kind of wrote what felt right in the moment. I tried to leave the situation vague so it could match with anyone’s experiences. I personally don’t like it too much (I honestly hate my writing so it could just be that LOL) so I can make a separate post with a text version, of course it would be a little bit different than this. Please let me know your thoughts 🙏

Requests - OPEN

Masterlist

Please read disclaimer in masterlist

Parties were the absolute worst. If you were forced to choose a least favorite thing on the planet, parties would be it. They’re loud and crowded; Worst of all, he’s always there.

3Racha had been nominated for an award. They had been invited to a big award show, a one where afterparties usually follow. You were incredibly proud of them, knowing just how hard they worked. They meant the absolute world to you, and to see them put their best foot forward and exceed tipped you over the moon. Previously, you’d turn them down when they’d ask you to attend with them, and you had a very good reason. Firstly, parties just weren’t your thing. You never fit in with everyone else growing up. Secondly, you knew that he was going to be there. You didn’t know what to call him. Putting a label on things had never felt right to you before. If someone were to ask him, he’d tell them you were together. But if someone were to ask you, you’d say it was complicated and you were content with how things were. You did that with everyone that seemed to be more than friends with you, commitment was a scary thing. But you did know that he was someone you never wanted to be around ever again.

You remember the way he’d always ask you to accompany him to one. He was the partier in the “relationship.” However, you’d always preferred to stay in. Nice and cozy in your blankets. One night, you decided to try and get out of your comfort zone. You wore something different, and put effort into your appearance. The moment he let his hand “accidentally” linger over your ass was the first sign of a mistake. The night only went downhill from there. Next thing you knew you were drugged and taken advantage of. It took you months to recover, months to find the will to get out of bed. Only Chan out of the three knew of this incident, but only very very vaguely. He only found out because he was the one nursing you back to your normal self again. You avoided giving him details, he doesn’t know the person, time, nor the place. You wanted to stick to using being tired as an excuse to politely turn them down. There was no way you could let them find out that you were just too weak to attend said gathering, especially because they don’t know what happened.

You listened to the boys explain how excited they were for this one. How this was such a big award, and how it was going to be so much different. The excitement that laced their voices made it hard for you to deny the question you knew was coming. “Do you think you could go with us this time?” They knew the answer every time they asked this question. A hesitant no, almost as if you were thinking about it. In reality, your mind was fighting off bad memories. It was hard not to think of it when even the topic was brought up, there’s no way you could bring yourself to revisit the place it happened. He was always going to be there, just like he was at every one while you knew him. Again, parties were his thing. So you were confident no matter which one you attended, he would be there. You were scared, to say the least. Scared of seeing him, scared of being pushed back into that dark room, scared of reliving what had made you feel so lifeless.

However, Han’s unintentional puppy eyes drew you closer and closer to the edge. How you wanted to see them happy. You weren’t sure if it was only platonic or if there was some hint of romantic feelings for them there, but you knew you loved them so much. Although the three knew the usual answer, they still proceeded to ask. They felt as they should always invite you, even if they know what your answer would be. However, this time you surprised them. With a quick purse of your lips, the words fell from your mouth. “Fine, but only this once.” The way their faces lit up when you agreed to go to with them brought a smile to your face. Though it quickly dissipated as your brain grabbed back at those awful memories. The guys were too lost in excitement to notice, but you’d prefer it that way. Everyone else had their own problems, so you hated adding your own on top of them.

The last few nights leading up to the award ceremony were filled with anxiety. Sleepovers with Chan were a mutually agreed way to get both of your minds off of stress. However your anxiety still managed to claw its way through what was supposed to be a comforting barrier with him. Chan was next to you, fast asleep which was something that was rare for him. Meanwhile, you silently cried next to him. Hours passed and you were still unable to fall asleep, too busy fighting off the horrible memories. Horrible memories of a time in your life that left you numb. You couldn’t shake it, knowing that he was going to be there. He was a popular artist, and you’d already checked the lineup for the event. His name was there, and now you were petrified. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you changed your mind. They were so excited, so you dealt with it.

The night of the party arrived. You’d isolated yourself for the day, hoping to prepare yourself enough for what was about to come. Hours passed and next thing you knew you were sat between Chan and Changbin on a fancy couch. Despite it being a fancy event, Han sat on the back of the couch with his feet on either side of you, his hands slowly running through your hair. It was a common thing for you to do with the three, often being very touchy with each other. It was to the point where you questioned if you were more than friends. While you didn’t kiss, or do anything beyond that, you were very hands on. Cuddling, hugging, playing with each others hair or outfits, you name it. However, you couldn’t decipher whether it was platonic or if there was a hint of romance in there.

Suddenly, an all too familiar voice snapped you out of the peaceful thoughts that managed to distract you for.. at least a little while. Soon enough, your worst fear of the night happened. He placed himself on the couch right across from you guys. The first 20 minutes or so, he had the subtlety evil smirk on his face.

However, you knew it would dissipate sooner or later. Based on your experience with him, he was an extremely jealous person. And given, how important skin-ship was to you and the three boys, it was only a matter of time. It happened when Han noticed you were quieter all of the sudden. His fingers came to a slow stop in your hair to travel down to your shoulder. His head leaning down to your ear to whisper something.

“Are you alright, jagiya?”

It was quiet, quiet enough where only those within a 3 inch radius could hear. So you wonder why you saw that man who you feared, drop his smirk to a frown. Maybe he read Han’s lips and noticed the word ‘jagiya’ ? Either way, you ignored it, and with a nod and a small smile which was noticeably forced, you brushed off Han’s worries insisting you were just tired. Changbin took notice of his member’s concern, and leaned in close to reassure you that the event would be over soon. You gave him the same smile and quietly thanked him.

Thats when he suddenly started staring daggers at you from across the room, his hand clenching onto the almost empty soju bottle. He was drunk, for sure. That had to have been the scariest part. It only added more fuel to the fire, you were silenced. Except nothing was physically stopping you from speaking. Your head dropped down, staring at your nails that now started to dig into the palms of your and in an attempt to quiet the voices in your mind. It was a bad habit you picked up when you got anxious. Recently, it’d been worse so you currently had crescent shaped markings left behind on the center of your hand. Han noticed the tension in your body, and leaned down to express his concern once again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re very tense.”

No response. As much as you wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, you couldn’t. It felt as if your throat was closing up, you couldn’t speak or move. You were anxious, overstimulated and all you wanted to do was jump out of the window. Anything to escape.

Your eyes were now staring daggers into the floor, and your body was completely still. Did you even hear him? He wondered at your lack of response, however it didn’t take long for him to pick up on it. But before he could say anything else, Chan’s hand gently but swiftly grabbed yours. Holding your hands in such a way that your nails couldn’t fight their way through your skin again. Chan was a very observant person, so it didn’t take him very long to notice the marks on your hands. That’s when Han recognized what was going on, Changbin following in their suit not but a few moments later. Once again, Han leaned down to say something. He was well aware that you were nonverbal right now, but he said it anyways hoping you could at least muster the energy to tell him you wanted to leave. You suddenly felt a hand on either shoulder, which were now rubbing soothingly into your tense muscles. “Do you want to leave? Chan still has to say his goodbyes to everyone, but I can take you outside.” This sentence was whispered into your ear, and the word ‘leave’ sparked your attention. You nodded almost too eagerly.

With that, Han motioned for you to stand up, saying something to you excuse yourselves. Chan let your hands slip out of his, looking over at his band mate and Changbin to silently communicate everyone would be leaving soon. You were unsure of what he said, now focused on not making eye contact with a certain someone right across from you. The closer to you that Han got, the more anger you could feel emitting off of the man in front. That only left you more anxious. Suddenly, Han put his arm around your waist gently to guide you out. The anxiety started to die down as you stepped out of the building, but the tears you were fighting didn’t. “You okay?” Han softly questioned as your eyes looked up to meet his. It took him not but a brief moment to notice your glossy eyes. He immediately pulled you in for a hug, which caused you to break down. Still unable to speak, you only mumbled out incoherent words that the male tried so hard to pick up on. Fortunately for him, he was able to make out a few words which told him everything he needed to know.

You felt unsafe is what it was. Although he wasn’t sure why, it was a step. Han would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t sense anger and tension in the room. The reason was what he couldn’t figure out. His head rested on yours, gently rocking you back and forth hoping to calm you down. Suddenly the door opened, but you remained still. As Chan and Changbin walked over, your breathing began to slow down. “Sorry n/n, I did my best to get us out as soon as possible. They don’t know when to shut up.” Chan apologized and rubbed his hand up and down your back. “Come on, we’ll talk later. Let’s get her out of here.”

Once you all arrived home, everyone went to their dorms. Except you stayed back at Chan and Jeongin’s. Although the younger was in the middle of a brand deal, which left you and the latter alone in the dorm. The trio agreed it would be better if you stayed with one of them for the night, so they decided on the leader’s as it would be the calmest. Your body lay next to him on his comfortable mattress, the lights set to a soft and comforting purple color with the tv playing a movie on the lowest volume. The male laying next to you, with his hand running up and down your back. Your eyes followed the movements of the character on the screen, but your brain wasn’t absorbing any of the plot. It was obvious this was a difficult night for you, but Chan just had to know.

“Feel free to not answer, I know you’re still not in a talking mood..” He led on, and your head raised to make eye contact with him. “Was that the guy… from you know.”

You did know, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Your facial features remained still, looking back and forth between both of his eyes as you mustered up the energy to get some form of response out. With that, you only nodded before turning back to the movie. Chan could swear he felt his heart break and everything suddenly clicked in his mind. If he had known it would only cause you anxiety, then he wouldn’t have pestered you to go for so long. “I am sooo sorry y/n.” His other arm found its way around you as he rested his head on yours. “We wouldn’t have pressed so hard if we knew what was going on.”

Although you didn’t respond, your hand found its way to his and gave him a light squeeze to reassure him that it was okay. “I know I don’t know the whole story but you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling, alright?” A small smile formed on your lips and your head nodded against his, nuzzling further. He let out a light and squeaky giggle as he ran his fingers over your knuckle gently. It was in this moment that you realized it was all going to be okay.

[cross-crye]

𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰

summary: twst & hsr charas with different soulmate au prompts that i think would fit them

incl: azul ashengrotto, idia shroud, malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, aventurine, blade, jing yuan, sunday

wc: 0.9k

a/n: after an absolutely horrific year i'm finally back to writing!! got half a lifetime's worth of lore in what is essentially 2/3 of a school year lol. but hey at least i got some new lore, so what better way to celebrate that then writing abt my fave au?

monochrome vision

Even the most powerful of beings weren't immune to the effects of the passage of time. After spending such a longevous existence in solitude, enduring loss after loss at every step of the way, he becomes resigned to the notion of forever living in a grey-scale world. Perhaps he wasn’t meant for such luxuries. Perhaps he was one of the unlucky few who was condemned to a live barren of companionship and deeper meaning. He could only wonder in the late hours of the night, or in the lonely moments trapped within his own mind while sitting at his desk: ‘Just what sins have I committed in a past life in order to earn this karma?’ Imagine his surprise upon upon realising that perhaps he wasn’t fated for eternal despair and desolation, and that perhaps, he himself had a chance to experience true joy. As colours bloomed in front of his eyes for the first time in his life, one so long others would struggle to count it, all he could think was that perhaps it had truly all been worth it as he gazed at you, forever ingraining the details of your visage deep inside his memory, to be forever treasured as the face of his saviour.

lilia vanrogue; jing yuan

matching tattoos

Wearing long sleeves, covering up despite the less than optimal weather for such attire, developing and maintaining a preference for the indoors as soon as the temperatures start to rise; anything to keep that damned mark hidden away. If nobody sees it, it doesn’t exist. If nobody can spot it and remark a similarity, then its not there. As long as he can keep hiding the mark, he can keep denying the existence of his soulmate. To bear a curse such as his is an already horrific fate, he couldn’t allow himself burden anyone else with it. It was like a plague, it would only continue to spread and affect others, drag them down to the depths of despair; and for what? He couldn’t let his feeble desire for companionship be the reason somebody else lost their humanity. Yet when he found himself doubting his philosophy after bandaging your cut shoulder blades (curtsy of having fallen into a thorny thicket on your earlier walk that he begrudgingly joined you on) Spotting the familiar mark on you was something he hadn’t ever expected. His companion and dear friend had been his soulmate all along, a shocking revelation which had caused him to impulsively lift his own sleeves and point to the matching pair.

blade, idia shroud

interacting within dreams

That’s what you were to him, a dream. Something he could only long for and yearn with the entirety of his soul yet fail to reach every time he tried. Despite not having even see your face due to the dream’s magic, your presence was deeply ingrained in his heart. He had envisioned you so many times, imagined what you’d look like, wondering if you’d look as beautiful as you sounded. You would overtake every waking moment, for his dreams were no longer enough, he would daydream about you, and play your voice in his mind on loop, all he desired was to suffocate in your presence and truly surround him in a way his dreams of you never could. He memorised everything about you, from what you mentioned to eat for breakfast to your aspirations and moral philosophy. If simply thinking of you hard enough would have brought you to life, you would have been born anew countless times. He could only live on in a prison of longing of his own making, every moment increasing his desperation to finally meet you and escape his mediocre existence. His obsession ran so deep he could perfectly render your voice in his head and hear you talk to him of thinks you hadn’t yet said. He thought he’d finally driven himself mad with yearning, hearing your voice while awake even when he hadn’t been the one to picture it, only to turn to see you for the first time, the image of perfection that even he couldn’t have dreamt, finally complete.

malleus draconia, sunday

countdown until first meeting

The little wristwatch was what kept him going, seeing the numbers go down was his motivation to go on, giving himself a purpose despite his lack of one in others’ eyes. Knowing that out there there was somebody who could truly understand him, who could see his worth and achievements in light of his struggle. Early on he had been victim of the critique and ridicule, but the hope of one person’s existence in contrary to this fuelled him to keep going. To strive to be better, to do something better with the unfortunate cards he was dealt. What worth other’s pinned on him no longer mattered, and as long as the ever-changing numbers on his wrist would continue to decrease he’d continue to prove the world wrong about their initial perception of him. All his life’s work amounted to this, the fateful meeting with who was supposed to be his one true love. As he continued down the winding streets of the town he could only anxiously stare at his wrist, taking note of the handful of hours left. His distracted state however, lead to him making the wrong turn and the counter adjust itself, not even letting him take in the shock of seeing that it had now only read a couple of seconds as he immediately collided into somebody, gripping the stranger’s shoulders to maintain his stability. Neither of you processed the beeping sound of your timers as you gazed in each other eye’s awestruck at finally meeting your soulmate.

aventurine, azul ashengrotto

cross-crye © 2024.

no reposting, stealing, copying, translating my works or feeding them to AI

reblogs, comments and likes are all highly appreciated

[fuxuannie]

This is honestly my first time requesting anything so I'm kinda nervous ngl lol.

May I request some HCs with Dan Heng, Jing Yuan and/or Blade with a GN Reader who dislikes physical touches? As in, if someone hugs them and grabs their arm they recoil as fast as they can because they're uncomfortable? And will only be okay with physical affection when it's needed or if it's their partner?

Thank you for possibly considering this request, and have a good day or night :)

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (4) x gender neutral reader

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : this request is SO me-core, as someone who's horrible with physical touch, i think im the best candidate for this /j thank you for the req and i'm honored im your first! this is really messy, im sorry T.T

DAN HENG was one of the first people to notice your discomfort with physical touch when you joined the Astral Express. March 7th tried to cling onto you, but instinctively you moved out of her way. (and admittedly almost made her stumble and fall doing so.) Profusely apologizing for that little accident, but you never really let people hold onto you.

So when you two got together, Dan Heng was pleasantly surprised with how clingy you really were. Whenever he was working in the Archives, the arms wrapping his waist and leaning on his back couldn't have been anyone else, he didn't wanna ask or point it out, just incase you would've been embarrassed or awkward about it.

Not only giving, but receiving. You used to refuse any form of physical touch but now the way he holds you in his arms is a blessing. You fit so perfectly, like you were meant for him, and he's so glad that you are. He helped you learn to love touch, and you helped him realize he loved to touch.

"I'll be there after work, I promise." You remember JING YUAN saying, and you told yourself you could survive a few hours waiting for him. So there you waited patiently, sitting alone on one of the outdoor tables by the restaurant you planned the date on.

It was almost time for him to arrive, and you were just happy you'd be seeing him soon, but you hear a throat clear behind you. You put your left arm by the back of your seat and turn around. "Hello there!" The man asked, a friendly smile on his face but something felt odd about it. A sixth sense intuition that somehow he didn't have the best intentions.

"You seem to be alone," Oh no. "I can give you a much better time." You force a laugh, flicking your wrist while doing so. "It's quite alright, he'll be arriving any minute now." And that seems to annoy the man, his kindness running thin. "Listen, he's clearly not interested-"

His hand goes up to grab your arm on the chair, but in one swift movement, you stand up and pull away. "Please. Do not touch me so casually." You say sternly, sending a glare towards the stranger. But the familiar feeling of a hand around your waist calms you down, you look at your boyfriend, who looks back at you apologetically. The man had long left, realizing who he may or may not have pissed off.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have arrived sooner." He says with a tired sigh. "It's alright, I'm glad you're here."

BLADE doesn't exactly care nor mind, he wasn't much of a touchy person either. But he'll do the little things like locking arms or letting you hold onto him.

He will get annoyed and maybe even confront people when it comes to situations where he feels like he has to. His mere glare can send people off running, so you're greatful to have him around.

You did like it when he'd hug you or hold you. It was rare, but when he let himself rest for a few hours, you're his personal pillow for that time period.

Kafka would mess with him every once in a while, touching your arm and making you feel ever so slightly awkward and the glare Blade gives would scare any ordinary person. She loves the reaction she gets out of him, seeing you get pulled away and his hands on your waist posessively.

"CAELUS, wait-" March 7th and Dan Heng tried to stop him, but suddenly the trailblazer walks up to you and wraps his arms around your figure. The other two expected you two slap him in the face, or something to push him away, but the way you payed no notice to the way he holds onto you surprises them.

"Whaaat..??"

"Oh! Right, this is my partner. Hehe." He'd snicker, already seeing March 7th's absolutely baffled expression. "You have a PARTNER??? AND IT'S (name)?!"

You're known in the Station for being a researcher who despised being touched, most people knew how passive aggressive you'd get depending on how you were touched, and the intentions behind it. "I'm the one exception to that whole thingy they have, I'm just really special." Caelus sparkled in pride, before clearing your throat. "You're about to lose that privilege if you don't let me go and look at some papers."

Caelus apologizes, pulling away as you huff. "Thank you." And you return to your work.

"I still can't believe Caelus pulls.."

"What in the GALAXY is that supposed to mean?!"

[h00nerz]

law of attraction!

masterlist | 1k celebration

pairing: fem!reader x choi soobin

genre: angst kinda, rivals to lovers, law student!soobin, law student!reader, pining, kinda fluffy at the end

word count: 3.6k

warnings: soobin is a lil mean sometimes, veeerry suggestive, but that’s it i think

prompt(s): #33 — “i can’t pretend anymore.” #34 — “you’re all i can think about.” #49 — “i can’t get you out of my head.” “…thanks?”

requested: “hii!! i hope ur doing well <3 could i req 33, 34, 49 and 50?? thank u <333333333” — anon

authors note: haha another enemies to lovers! tbf it’s not my fault most of the requests were enemies to lovers themed. anyways i had been wanting to do a law intern thing for someone for a long time and i thought it would fit for soob! i got a lil carried away while writing this LOL i hope u enjoy!!

IN LIFE, THERE WAS ONLY THREE THINGS YOU WERE SURE OF. First, sparkling water is stupid. Just drink soda or water instead, there’s no point in pretending you’re better than anyone else when in reality it’s just that you can’t pick a side! The second thing you knew was you were born to be a lawyer. Arguing was in your blood, there was no doubt you were going to make an incredible attorney one day. The third and final thing that you knew for certain was that you hated Choi Soobin.

Freaking Choi Soobin. In the past, you never thought you’d be the kind of person to have a nemesis. The whole concept of having an enemy seemed childish, and like something that only happened in movies. But, then you met Soobin, and everything changed. You hated him, and his smug little attitude, and he hated you, too.

You know, there was actually a point in time where you didn’t hate Soobin. It sounds crazy, but there was actually a time you might have called him a friend. Back when you were just a baby-faced girl, fresh out of high school and filled with excitement for your first college course. Soobin sat next to you, and you bonded over your desire to one day go to law school. But, then he betrayed you when he told the guy you liked, Hwang Hyunjin, that he saw you kissing the TA for your class, and from that moment on, Choi Soobin was your enemy.

And of course, as your enemy, he just had to apply to intern at the same firm as you. He had followed you to the same law school, so it was no surprise he followed you there, too. But you were starting to grow tired of his ever looming presence. After you graduated, you wouldn’t be surprised if he got a job at the same place as you, just to piss you off.

After a long morning of sorting through the mess of files in the basement of the office, it was finally time for your lunch break. You had been standing with your shoulders hunched over for hours, and you were positive your back was about to break from the stress.

“Y/N!” One of the only other interns in the office, and your only friend in the office, Sumin, called out to you once you appeared back upstairs. “I thought you were out sick or something, where have you been?” She stood up from her desk and wandered over to you.

“I was exiled to the basement. There’s files from like, 20 years ago down there, it’s a mess.” You groaned as she followed you towards the break room, rubbing your shoulder as you walked.

Sumin winced. “Ooh, yeah. Sana was telling me about how when she was an intern here, she had to go down there once, and found a rat skeleton.”

“What?!” You gasped in horror, a little bit louder than you meant to. “That was like, ten years ago though, right? It must have been cleaned up since then, right? Because I don’t think I can work around dead rats, no matter how bad I need this internship.”

You heard a laugh from the corner of the break room, and felt yourself become filled with dread. With your jaw clenched tightly, you slowly turned to face the direction of the noise. There he was, sitting at the little table with a cup of ramen in front of him and his phone propped up in front of him.

“Soobin.” You glared at him. Sumin, bless her heart, tried to pretend she couldn’t sense the tension as she slowly opened up the door to the fridge.

“You know why they sent you to the basement, right, Y/N?” Soobin asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” You rolled your eyes, turning to the fridge to fish out the salad you brought for lunch.

“Because they don’t trust you enough to do the important stuff.” He told you with an amused tone to his voice.

You spun around, slamming the fridge door behind you. “Really? Remind me, who did Taemin pick to help him with the Park case? Me! Not you!” You snapped, jabbing your finger in his direction pointedly.

“Y/N!” Sumin hissed your name scoldingly, as though he wasn’t the one who started it.

Soobin’s smug smile twisted into a scowl at your reminder. “That’s just because I had the flu and wasn’t here. You were just his second choice.”

You had successfully managed to get under his skin--which wasn’t very hard--and were satisfied as you sat down at one of the other tables with Sumin. “Sure, Soobin. Keep telling yourself that.”

He started to raise his hand, like he was going to make some sort of rude gesture at you, but flinched and tucked his hand beneath the table when someone else walked into the room. You furrowed your eyebrows together, and turned in your seat to see who it was. His ears must have been burning, because Taemin himself had decided to join the three of you.

“Oh, hi, guys.” He smiled at you as he walked over to the fridge. You glanced over at Soobin over Sumin’s shoulder. He was staring back at you, with his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

That was another thing about Soobin that had always bothered you. Especially in moments like now, where he looked like he was seconds away from murdering you, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, he was extremely attractive. You had always thought so, even back a million years ago when you were friends. His dark eyes and his perfectly shaped lips just did something to you that you were slightly ashamed of.

You swallowed hard, diverting your attention down to your salad. You could already feel your skin becoming hot, and there was absolutely no way you could ever let Soobin get even an inkling that you might be attracted to him. It was just all so humiliating.

“Y/N, Soobin, I actually need to talk to the both of you. Could you meet me in my office after you finish lunch?” Taemin asked, and you immediately looked back over to Soobin to see if he knew what it was about. His eyebrows were furrowed together, though, and he looked just as confused as you.

“Um, do you mind me asking why?” You asked hesitantly, looking over at your boss.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I just need your help with something.” He reassured the two of you wish a smile.

When he left the break room, you could hear Soobin grumbling in his corner. You wanted to ask him what he’d done to get you both in trouble, but you were also not in the mood to fight with him. Not when you had to go and face Taemin in just a few minutes. He said it was nothing bad, but you weren’t sure you believed him.

While you finished eating your food, Soobin stood by the doorway, huffing dramatically as he waited for you. Just for that, you took the smallest bites you could, which just made him even more annoyed. Sumin was clearly feeling very awkward as she ate her food, eyes flickering between you and Soobin like she was waiting for one of you to attack the other.

Once you had taken the final bite, Soobin stomped over, and grabbed your wrist to tug you out of your seat. “Clean up for her, will you, Sumin? I’m sure you already do that a lot.” He asked your friend, before dragging you out of the break room before you got the chance to protest.

Finally, you snatched your wrist free from his grip, rubbing the sore spot as you trailed after him in the direction of Taemin’s office. “Ugh, you’re such an ass, you know that?” You murmured.

“Me? You’re the one purposefully taking forever when our boss is literally waiting for both of us.” He snapped at you.

You don’t say anything else, worried that someone else in the office might hear your childish squabble.

When the two of you finally reached Taemin’s office, Soobin opened the door, and you’re shocked when he gestured for you to walk in first. Then, you remembered how much of a suck-up he is, and that your boss was on the other side. You shot him a glare as you walked in.

“Oh, good! You’re here!” Taemin greeted the two of you. “Please, sit.”

You obliged him, sitting down on the small couch across from his desk. Soobin sat down as well, and you immediately noticed his leg pressed up against your own. The same heat you felt before spread across your skin like a wildfire, and you cleared your throat.

“So, as you know, the Kang vs. Choi trial is happening next week. Now, Jun was supposed to be in charge of sorting through all the files and compiling them into binders, but his appendix burst and he had to get surgery.” He rolled his eyes, as though Jun was just being dramatic.

“So, now I have fifteen boxes full of papers that need to be sorted through… And I need to get them to the Court tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” You blurted out, eyes wide.

Taemin nodded. “I know, it’s short notice, but Jun claims he had been ‘busy’ and was ‘getting around to it’ before his appendix burst. So, I was hoping you two would be willing to stay late tonight and finish his work.”

“Tonight?! But—“ Soobin started, but was cut off by Taemin.

“You don’t have to do it. I’m more than happy to ask one of the other interns. I figured you two would just like the opportunity to help me out with this…”

“Absolutely yes, Taemin! I can’t speak for Soobin, but I would be delighted to help you with this!” You might as well have held up your hand in salute from how militaristic your answer came out.

Soobin glared at you. “Yes, I am also very willing to help you.” He said as formally as possible, but he couldn’t hide the slight annoyance in his tone.

Taemin smiled. “Great! I’ll have Jisung bring up the boxes, then you can get to work later!” He told you, which you took as your cue to leave.

Soobin trailed after you as you left the office and started to return to your desks. “I can’t believe he’s making us work all night to sort through a bunch of boxes.” He muttered.

“What, did you have a hot date tonight, or something?” You teased, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you jealous?” He asked, and you immediately scoffed in response.

“Why in the world would I be jealous? If anything I would feel bad for whatever poor soul has been tricked into a date with you.” You quickly snapped back at him.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.” He said with a sigh.

You hated that a small, minuscule part of you was happy he didn’t have a date.

BY THE TIME EVERYONE ELSE HAD CLEARED OUT OF THE OFFICE, you and Soobin had managed to get through seven boxes. It was nine o’clock at night, and the exhaustion, as well as the hunger was starting to hit you. You still had eight boxes to go through, and you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through the night.

“God, I’m so hungry.” You muttered as you picked through the papers in the box you were currently working on.

You expected him to make some snarky comment or something, but he didn’t. Instead he just let out a small hum in agreement. “Me too. Should we try ordering some food?” He suggested.

You nodded, then made the mistake of glancing over at him. At some point during your sorting, he had lost his tie, unbuttoned his shirt down to the middle of chest, and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. His dark hair, which had been meticulously styled when he came into work that morning, was now a disheveled mess. There was a thin sheen of sweat that glistened against his skin. He looked way too good under the soft glow of the office lighting.

“Sure. If anywhere is even open.” You replied, eyes flickering back down to your box.

“I know a good place. I order from there all the time when I’m working late.” He said plainly.

“You work late a lot?” You asked as you pulled out a thick stack of papers.

“Yeah. I mean, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I just… I dunno, assumed that you had other things to do besides work…” You shrugged.

He leaned back against the table he was working at as he worked on ordering food on his phone. “Why would you assume that?” He glanced up at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought that a good looking guy like you would have a bunch of girlfriends and friends to hang out with.” You felt your face grow warm as you worked, once again avoiding his gaze like it was the plague.

He laughed. “Yeah, I wish. I’m way too busy for that…” His voice trailed off, and you could feel him look up from his phone to look at you. “You think I’m a good looking guy?”

You shook your head, while you started tapping the papers against the table to straighten them out. “No, I didn’t mean it like I think you’re good looking. Just, like, you’re objectively a good looking guy. I think. Sumin thinks you’re good looking. Not me, I definitely don’t—“ Your hand got too close to the paper, and you felt the edge slice straight through your palm.

You hissed loudly, dropping the papers onto the table. “Stupid fucking paper.” You muttered to yourself, and Soobin wasted no time rushing to your side.

“Did you cut yourself? Do you need me to go get a bandaid or something?”

“No, it’s fine. I just need to go and rinse it off.” You told him, trying to push past him in the direction of the bathroom. He pressed one of his big hands against your shoulder to stop you.

“Just let me get you a bandaid.” He rolled his eyes at you. “I think Sana keeps some in her desk…” He mumbled as he started digging through the said woman’s drawers.

You huffed, turning around to lean back against the desk. “You better hurry. I think I’m about to bleed out and die.” You called out to him.

He glanced up to give you that same annoyed look he always seemed to wear around you. “Maybe I should let you. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with you everyday.”

“But then who would keep you on your toes?” You asked pointedly. He finally found a bandaid, and started walking back over. “Admit it, Soobin. You need me.”

He didn’t say anything, instead focusing on opening up the bandaid. He held out his hand, gesturing for you to put yours in, which you did hesitantly. He had really soft hands.

You watched as he gently pulled off the tabs of the bandage, then laid it across your palm. He used one of his long, slender fingers to smooth it down and make it stick.

It wasn’t until he glanced back up at you when you realized how close he was to you. His dark eyes met your own, and you had the instinct to look away, but something about his gaze had you entranced, and you couldn’t look away, no matter how hard you tried.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, hanging his head down. He took a step back from you, and it felt like a warmth had disappeared. You blinked at him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t pretend anymore, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, although you had a feeling you knew exactly what he meant, because it was the same thing you were thinking.

“I can’t pretend like you’re not all I can think about. At work, at home, at school, I can’t get you out of my head.” He confessed, and for a second the insecure part of you thought he might have been saying all of this as some sort of cruel joke, but the look in his eyes told you it wasn’t.

“Thanks…?” You played stupid, tilting your head at him. You needed him to just come out and say it, to confirm you weren’t crazy, and what was happening was really happening.

He let out a frustrated sigh. “When we were freshmen… And I told Hwang Hyunjin you were kissing the TA…”

Your ears perked up. Was he finally going to explain what that was all about, after all these years?

“It was because Hyunjin told me he was planning to ask you out. And I got jealous because I wanted to ask you out, but was too scared to do it.”

Oh.

“You did?” You asked quietly.

He nodded. “Of course I did. You were smart, funny, and gorgeous, of course I wanted to ask you out.” He was avoiding your eyes now, his cheeks tinted pink.

“And… How do you feel about me now?”

“I feel like you’re incredibly annoying, and sometimes you’re a bit of a know-it-all, and some days you dress sort of like a grandma—“

“Hey!”

“—but I also think you’re smart, probably smarter than me. And you still manage to make me laugh. And even though you do dress like a grandma…”

Your heart jumped up into your throat when he started walking back over to you, getting just as close to you as he had been before. But then he got even closer, leaning down so his lips were aligned with your ear.

“…You look like a sexy grandma.” He whispered in a low, sultry voice.

You immediately burst into laughter. “Oh wow, Soobin, you really know how to get a girl going.” You told him with a laugh, and he leaned back to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Shut up.” He murmured while you continued to giggle.

“Here, let me show you how it’s done, okay?” You wrapped your fingers around the collar of his shirt, and gave it a tug so you could lean in close to him. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting yourself catch your breath.

“Are you just going to breathe in my ear the entire time?” Soobin asked in an irritated tone.

You shook your head. “No. I’m going to tell you, that right now, with your sleeves rolled up…” You gently dragged your fingernails against his bare forearms, and you felt him shiver. “And your shirt unbuttoned…” Your hand traveled upwards to trail across his exposed collarbone. “And your messy hair…” You reached around to brush your fingers against the hair on the nape of his neck.

“You look incredibly sexy.”

He leaned back and immediately bent back down to connect your lips to his. He kissed you harshly, like you were the only thing that could cure his hunger. His big hands found home on your hips, while your own nestled themselves deeper in his hair. Just like you had predicted, his lips were perfect for kissing.

One of his hands let go of your waist, and you heard a scuffle behind you. For a brief moment, you pulled away from the kiss to see what was going on, just to find he had slid everything off of your desk. With it all clear, his hands wrapped around your thighs, and he lifted you up onto the desk and slotted himself between your legs.

He went back to kissing you like a mad man, using one arm to hold you close against him by your waist and the other to stabilize himself against the desk. Your fingers moved quickly across the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one until the shirt was completely open. As you started to trace your fingers against his abdomen, he slid the hand that was wrapped around your waist under your shirt, practically burning against your bare skin.

Just as he was starting to prod at your lips with his tongue, there was a loud banging noise, which caused you to help and immediately cling onto Soobin.

“Oh my god! We’re gonna die! The killers always go for the people making out first!” You wail, digging your fingers into his collar to keep him close to you.

He rolled his eyes. “I take back what I said about you being smart.” He said with a sigh, and you gasped loudly.

“Shut up, you ass!” You hissed at him, smacking his chest and pulling away from him.

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Kidding. Anyways, I’m pretty sure it’s just our food.” He told you with a sigh, staring down at you while his thumb brushed against your swollen lip.

You shivered. “I guess we can always… Finish this later, right?” You asked quietly. As much as it pained you, you were still starving, and had lots of work left to do.

He pouted. “Promise?”

You nodded, then sat up to gently press your lips against his. As you sat back, you smiled at his dazed expression. “I promise.”

permanent tag list: @jakeshands @exohclipse @ttyunz @i1l0-n4 @mazeinthemoon @luvsoobs @n0-thisispatrick @arizzu @cosmicuwu @naveries @yeonboy @blaaiissee

other tags: @haohyo @gyumibear @heartsforhyunjin

[sadistmusings9]

Careful what you wish for

I have meant to write this story for a while now. So come with me, as I stroll down memory lane. (Names changed for privacy) 

I met Jess on Tumblr, (of course, where else?) a private girl who rarely shared pics but was so direct and honest I had no doubt of her submission. Heavily into servitude and humiliation. She did my pet name task and we hit it off from there. We’d played off an on casually for weeks until she had been venting about a roommate. When pressed as to why she wasn’t a fan Jess mentioned Belle was selfish, didn’t help out much if at all. Taking action (While Belle was away) I had poor Jess take ‘revenge’ by pissing in Belle's panties and humping her boots. It was during aftercare and debriefing about the tasks that things got interesting. 

Poor stupid honest Jess let slip that humping Belle’s boots felt so good because “I wish she’d own me”. Naturally I pressed her further and once I established it was more than just a passing fantasy, well tenderhearted fellow that I am I couldn’t resist helping out. And thus began my manipulation uh matchmaking… 

I started slowly, boiling the frog so to speak (dumb metaphor -frogs do respond to external temps even if heated slowly (unless lobotomised)- but it fits). For context all the other roommates and Belle were away for a few weeks. I had Jess message Belle asking if there was anything she could do for Belle while she was away, cleaning her room, laundry etc. Belle was suspicious at first wondering what the catch was.

I puppeted Jess to reply that there was no catch she was simply extremely bored and alone. 

Once reassured Belle was keen, there was two bins of laundry to do “but don't expect anything in return” 

Of course not!! Jess replied promptly getting into a maid costume tits out and wearing Belle’s soiled panties on her face until they needed to be washed. 

Within minutes as an afterthought Belle sent “oh and you can fold it too i hate doing that part” 

What a bitch! No wonder the other roommates hate her, not Jess though she seemed to love the demanding nature of Belle. 

After the laundry was washed and neatly folded on Belle's bed I had Jess send Belle a pic and thank her for giving her something to do to stave off the boredom. Without a thank you in sight (Jess almost came when I pointed that out) Belle replied “if youre really that bored my bathroom could probably be cleaned” 

“I’ll do my best!” 

“Lol its been a few months since I cleaned it so it might be a little dirty. But yours is always spotless so i know you know how to do it” 

And so the maid got to work, well after its pathetic tits were clamped and the toilet seat made out with, for my amusement.  

“lol i could get used to this” Belle said when notified it was all done. “Anything else you’d like to do for me to stay busy??’

I had Jess reply after some discussion “I know you have a lot of boots and heels do you want me to polish them for you?? Idk why but Im feeling very domestic today”

“Lmfao sure why not but i swear to god if you ruin a single pair I’ll be so pissed”

“Do you want me to do something else instead?

“No that’s a perfect idea. Do the other girls know you’re feeling “domestic” or am I the only lucky one??” 

Come on holes, be honest I prompt from behind the emerald curtain

“It’s just you…”

“Then you better do a good job or I’ll share our little secret with them’ 

I was grinning and Jess was squirming, what a natural Domme no wonder she’s so demanding

Poor Jess was a wet mess unable to respond so I put her to work polishing the boots with her mouth and cunt, and fucking the heels. Then actually wiping them over and polishing them properly till they shined. 

“Hahahahahahaha” Belle was thrilled by the resulting shiny 14 pairs of shoes. 

“I’m glad to have made you happy”

“You should make sure I stay happy”

“How can I do that??”

“Maybe i’ll come back this weekend and we can make some arrangements” 

“If you do, is there anything you need me to do before you come home?”

“I’ll be back in the morning why don’t you have some pancakes and starbucks ready for me and be there to carry my bags inside”

Pause for panic and begging me for what to respond 

“It would be my pleasure, thank you” 

After laughing at the messy puddle holes had become I congratulated her on submitting to me and letting me control her into getting what she wished for. I instructed her to set an alarm early to give her time to pack away her crate (I had her sleeping crated at the foot of Belle’s bed) and go get starbucks and pancakes.  

And that was that, last I heard Jess was sucking the cocks of Belles boyfriends whenever Belle desired and I sincerely hope they’re happy together. I do miss holes though and should she be free, is always welcome under my control again. Feel free to crawl back puppet… 

As for the rest of you, be careful what you wish for. 

[ari-but-unhinged]

Art for Toritsuka/Hairo fic where I explored what was meant to be a crack ship and is now one of my favourite (??) ships in Saiki k- PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

(A long rant ensues so, if you don’t want that then that’s all good and you don’t have to click, but if you’re interested, then welcome to my rant about a rare pair i love!)

Of course, I started out by simply laughing at the “I hate men” line Toritsuka said about Hairo and thinking writing a crack taken seriously fic would be funny and it would be a nice break before I started this other fic I have planned that is going to be an even bigger endeavour with Saiki k x Danganronpa. What I didn’t see happening was for this Torihai fic to completely take over my brain space and end up with a fic just shy of 20,000 words.

This may not seem like a lot, but I usually only write fics in 1,000-2,000s so this is a lot for me, especially since I’m a slow writer/editor so it takes me a while.

Part of the reason I love these two together is because of the inherent dynamic of Hairo’s inspirational preachiness and how it doesn’t work on Toritsuka, and how it might be refreshing for Hairo to have someone who challenges him (and not in the fake way Teruhashi does, with Toritsuka being very upfront and honest about it). Toritsuka also, because he’s so upfront about his feelings, helps Hairo to express certain emotions like annoyance/sadness that he wouldn’t normally express outwardly. Something else too is that Toritsuka tends to be very physically affectionate, and I don’t know that Hairo is used to that (I haven’t seen any examples of him being physically affectionate in any other way than a bro way) so that could be refreshing as well. Also, also, Toritsuka is Hairo’s gym buddy who was reluctantly dragged along that day Saiki was trying to avoid everyone and no one can change my mind lol (this, in Hairo’s mind, forms a bond between them that can never be broken and he will never stop reminding Toritsuka of this when they hang out).

I just think their dynamic can be playful/fun because they’re both real with each other if that makes sense?

On Toritsuka’s side of things, he doesn’t have a lot of friends and the friends he does have he either doesn’t have any chemistry with or hate him (Saiki lol), so I think it’d be nice for him to have someone who is extremely caring/attentive to his friends and clearly cares deeply about them and shows it often. Because of this, Hairo shows interest in Toritsuka’s life, and for someone who probably hasn’t had many friends, that would mean a lot. Also the fact that Hairo cares so much for Toritsuka sets an example as to how to be a good friend/human would behave and could help him grow as a person (which are always the best friendships/relationships when they grow together rather than staying stagnant and dragging each other down). Being more caring of others and allow him to develop his interpersonal relationships with more than just ghosts, instead with real humans.

Also, I’ve taken to calling them the “errand boys” because it’s a great prompt to force two people who are polar opposites and would never interact to hang out/do an activity together, so I thought it fit them perfectly.

In the fic I changed a few things from canon (sexualities obviously- Tori is bi/queer and Hairo is gay. Although quick side-tangent- I’ve written Tori/Kaidou, Tori/Akechi, and now Tori/Hairo and all three of them either are Asexual or are often headcanonned as ace by the community/me and I just find it very funny that the horniest character is continuously shipped with them. I only realized I did this after I first started writing the fic.)

- Hairo explicitly has psychic powers (it’s something they can bond over and it’s something that plays off of Hairo’s emotions. Cue a lot of blushing not only because of embarrassment but also actual literal heat rushing to his face.)

- Hairo was raised by a single parent (His family is never mentioned so I just made one up)

- Personal headcanon, but I feel like Toritsuka might occasionally pretend to not see spirits in order to avoid getting approached.

- Toritsuka’s backstory has been slightly altered and has a lot more angst to an already pretty sad backstory (it’s played for laughs, but imagine how that would’ve felt for him :( he realized he lost two people he loved in a matter of minutes. Also, he’s a child when this happens so that’s even sadder. I honestly wonder if they died somewhere in the house or he was just there and his guardians didn’t know, like??? How???)

If this made you interested in reading the fic which this is all about, I’ll link it at the end, but if you were just here for the rant, that’s cool too! I’m obsessed with these two because they’re adorable and I must spread the gospel of Torihai.

Link to original fic-

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Not a question, just a small rant. I read your prompt about people complaining about the first of your book being too much for them and basically wanting you to change your art to fit their needs. I'm not sorry when I say then they should leave and cry somewhere else. I get so sick of these people having nothing else better to do than cry and moan because it's not something they want it to be. When the truth is, it's your art, your plan, and your hard work. It's your vision to where you want your story to go. It's just so aggravating to read not only yours but so many other hard working writers comments about, this is to much, this is too little, why can't we do this or that. Well you know what? It's because it's the writers book, their vision, and their hard work that brings these wonderful stories to life, and if they don't like it, then go write your own damn story the way you want it. I'm sorry to you, that you had to put up with that and it was so much that you actually did change some of your writing. Anyways, this was a bit of a longer rant than I planned, sorry 🤐 I'll stop now. I hope you're doing well and don't change your vision because people want to whine and cry about the way they think your vision should go. Hope you're have a wonderful week so far!! Take care 😉

Omg this is very sweet of you to say! 😊💙

Ngl I thought for a moment you meant to send this to another author because 100% I feel like most get bullied by their audience. I had to think when I might have gotten some pestering feedback but I think the only repetitive negative feedback I got was people saying it was too depressing in the beginning.

Which honestly I always expected since this has always been my writing style, I mean, the name of the story does revolve around an inside joke between me and my best friend how we both have mommy issues and how I can always find a way to make a comedy a tragedy lol.

I never really let it bother me or let it affect my writing, I don't want people thinking the story is all doom and gloom so I preface in the stories introduction that things do get better for the MC. But I also know that I enjoy making people cry with my writing, soooo... yeah.

But thank you so much for sending this, it's really sweet of you. I feel like more authors need to know they do not need to bend to what some people want when it's their story to tell. Not all stories are for everyone but better to make your story and be happy when some people like it for the way they wrote it!

I hope you wave a wonderful day or night, and if it's as hot where you are just like it is for me here; I hope both sides of your pillow is cold when you sleep because I am boiling. 💙

[makoredeyes]

In regards to Timur and Felwinter relationship in the Open Air Dining fic, I was just wondering if you have any plans to go into detail about the things Timur was keeping from Felwinter? I love these too a lot, but I'm a bit confused about how exactly their whole dynamic works. I saw the part where Felwinter asked Timur what he would do if he didn't want something, and Timur said he would be disappointed and prefer they stop. I'm not good at deciphering certain things, lol. I saw one of your recent asks and thought maybe I'll ask on here instead of through dms in case anyone else was wondering the same thing. Also, amazing work on the fics super excited to see how housefire continues after that little sneak peek fic you gave us most recently!

Hi! I love how much attention you give my writing and all your questions when you have them!

What Fel meant when he mentioned Timur was keeping stuff from him was it was dawning on him thanks to Timur’s behavior during that particular encounter that Timur was more invested in a relationship than he’d been letting on. Timur’d been stirring Felwinter up and trying to rile him, yes, but when he’s put on the spot about Felwinter’s needs specifically, he puts them well above his own in a situation where he likely wouldn’t have done so at all if he was just in it for the pleasure.

It’s a trope I like to lean on and revisit a lot with these guys where they’re transitioning from friends with benefits to something more. (This fic I’m particular wouldn’t fit into anything else I’ve written it’s its own one-shot)

Actually in this case it happened by accident lmao I sat down to write smut and some fluff snuck in anyway 🤣 (it always does especially with these idiots bless them)

So I guess tldr for that fic nope, that was just a fun little one shot to ruin dinner with cx but I’m always smashing them together in various ways to explore their personalities and quirks and how those weird puzzle piece shapes fit together and it won’t be the last time we see something like this with them I’m sure. (For one there’s a gaggle of us with a kink prompt generator that I give a spin every now and then and sooner or later it’s gonna produce a winning combo ehehe )

[mehoymalloy]

An Imogen/Otohan "drabble" (it's actually almost 2k)

Entitled:

"Imogen and Otohan Do the Silly Spider-Man Kiss But the Author Takes It Way Too Seriously"

(all because @inomakani gave me a silly prompt and I just kept working on it whenever my brain was too tired to focus on other WIPs. I'm posting this only on tumblr because I refuse for for my tenth published Imogen/Otohan work to be this bullshit lol)

EDIT: I forgot to mention that this is set in my Let Me/Won't You AU (which, If you keep up with this rarepair at all, you likely already know; if this is your first glimpse of the ship, allow me to apologize in advance).

~

"So you're the reason I woke up with a racing heart," Imogen mutters.

She gingerly leans back against a short tree, mindful of rough bark scraping her skin through the fabric of her sleep shirt. Tired eyes sweep across her surroundings, squinting to try and discern more shapes in the darkness.

A small camp has been set up in a copse of small trees and scraggly shrubbery. The remains of a fire smolder nearby, set in a shallow scrape dug into the dirt and cleared of any surrounding foliage that could catch fire.

The glowing ashes provide far less light than Ruidus: the ruddy moon sits ominously in the sky, close enough to give the distinct impression of lurking over one's shoulder rather than perched on the distant horizon. Gently undulating ley lines sprawl across the sky, converging at the bright beam of energy that leashes the moon to Exandria. Judging the distance, they can't be too far from the Key. Imogen glances down, gently dragging a sock-clad toe against the Hellcatch Valley's signature dry and craggy earth. Crimson moonglow filters through the sparse foliage, dappling the dusty ground like blood splatter on skin.

Imogen raises her gaze to the only other person present: Otohan is not far from the fire and a deserted bedroll, half stripped of their armor as if they had considered getting at least a little comfortable before abandoning the notion entirely. Their cloak and extraneous bits of armor have been removed, leaving Otohan in hide leggings and a fitted, padded tank, clearly meant to protect vital organs from injury. They look like they had every intention of getting some rest, but they are the furthest thing from settled. Instead, they're doing honest-to-gods push-ups in the early morning hours.

Otohan barely spares Imogen a glance as they push themselves back up from their near-prone position, palms protected from shale and grit by their customary fingerless gloves.

"And you're the reason I couldn't sleep to begin with," they huff. "Anxiety plagues you even in sleep, you know."

Imogen can't help but snort slightly at that. "I'm well aware—nice to know someone else suffers with me, though," she mutters.

Otohan gives no response as they push themselves to stand, adjusting their stance and sinking into a squat.

Imogen shoves herself off the tree, strolling to the campfire and prodding the embers with a nearby stick. Otohan's gaze is heavy on her as Imogen turns and plops down onto Otohan's bedroll. She reaches for a crumpled sheet at the foot of the bedroll, likely kicked aside at some point.

"What're you doing out in the middle of the desert anyway?" Imogen shakes the blanket out, watching as a cloud of dust falls from the rough-cut hemline. "Last I heard, you were the moon's guard dog or somethin'," she says snidely, folding the cloth in half and over itself again neatly simply to do something with her hands. When she glances back to Otohan, they have not paused their routine, though they hold Imogen's gaze with a level stare.

"Is there a specific reason you're still gracing me with your company?" Otohan asks, ignoring Imogen's jab.

Imogen sets the sheet aside, considering why she did choose to sit down rather than simply leave. Otohan stands fully, shaking their legs out one at a time before lifting their arms over their head. They bend one elbow to clasp the opposite, leaning into the arc their arm creates to give their side a long stretch. Then, they swap arms and do the same with the opposite side.

Imogen admittedly watches, trailing her gaze from Otohan's fingertips down their arms, tracing over flexing biceps to broad shoulders.

It's strange to see a glimpse of Otohan's routine—to know that the person who ruthlessly killed Orym coincidentally has a similar habit of doing push-ups when they can't sleep.

"I guess it's sort of, I don't know, novel to see you just existing," she mutters, a subtle frown twisting her features.

Otohan audibly snorts. "Did you think I spend all my time standing around ominously?"

Imogen rolls her eyes as Otohan turns away, striding toward the largest tree (which really isn't saying much) in this patch of scraggly foliage. They swing their arms in a few wide but controlled arcs, then abruptly leap upward.

It's interesting—during that awful day in Bassuras, Imogen had assumed Otohan darted around the street using some modified form of flight, or maybe even with the contraption on their back. But without the heat of battle to distract, Imogen can plainly feel the source of Otohan's enhanced ability.

Imogen's own powers always come with a strange sort of lightness—a skin-tingling sensation that accompanies every arc of lightning and telekinetic shove. It's a feeling that races through her bloodstream and sparks on the back of her tongue, raising the hairs on her arms as all that power seemingly strains to escape her.

But with Otohan, their power has a palpable weight. In the second before Otohan jumps, when both their feet are planted on the ground, Imogen leans forward ever so slightly against her will, pulled in by a subtle sense of gravity that seems to originate from Otohan themself. When they launch themself upward, all that gathered force expands, sweeping over Imogen like shockwaves, burrowing into her bones and reverberating through her form. Otohan isn't weaving a spell with the mysterious magic assumedly shared by all Exaltants; they're shaping their will into a concentrated force and physically exerting it.

It's subtle, but in the late night quiet, every little nuance and fleeting sensation strikes like bells in Imogen's skull before ringing throughout her frame, leaving her strangely dizzy from the feeling of powers so different from her own, shared through the strange connection between them.

All so Otohan can cover an unnatural height in one leap and grab hold of one of the tree's thicker branches. They adjust their grip, and then they start doing pull-ups.

As Imogen shakes off the subtle, lingering sensation of Otohan's magic, flexing her fingers and swallowing as if to expel or smother it. She admittedly studies Otohan. She trails her eyes over markings her fingertips had already been acquainted with, matching the memory of how they had felt beneath her hands with the sight before her now. Twisting crimson scars splay out from beneath the straps of Otohan's shirt, spreading across their shoulders and climbing up the nape of their neck, shifting and writhing as the muscles beneath contract. Shrouded in darkness and dappled with moonlight, the markings glint like raw wounds against Otohan's dark skin.

"Now you're just showing off," Imogen drawls.

Otohan actually huffs a laugh at that. "This isn't showing off," they toss over their shoulder.

They hang there and adjust their grip until their hands are spread further than the width of their shoulders, and then they lift their legs, curling their knees up to their chest. Arms flexing, they slowly lean backward, rotating like a wheel and bringing their knees up through their arms. Extending their legs, they securely hook their knees over the branch and let go, keeping their elbows tucked close to their sides as they steadily lower themselves until they fully hang upside down.

"This is showing off," they say pointedly, tone flat even as the faintest smirk curls at the corner of their lips. They then do a literal sit-up, engaging their core and keeping their back as straight as they can as they slowly curl upward until their chin nearly touches their knees.

Imogen snorts aloud. "You're ridiculous," she says, vaguely bewildered by just how true the statement is as Otohan lowers themself and arches an eyebrow at her. Silver curls hang freely, exposing more of those crimson markings along the sides of Otohan's neck that would otherwise be concealed beneath their cloak and armor.

Otohan only shoots Imogen a subtle, shockingly playful smirk as they do another sit-up, then another. Imogen watches with furrowed brows, repressing a rebellious grin. Otohan's shirt shifts and falls little by little with each crunch, soon exposing their belly button, which protrudes ever so slightly.

"Oh my god, you have an outie," Imogen exclaims before she can stop herself.

Otohan pauses (still upside down), staring at Imogen in confusion as they stretch their arms and arch their back. "Yes?"

"Weird," Imogen murmurs—not that Otohan's belly button is weird, more so that knowing about it is oddly unnerving. It's yet more proof that Otohan is a person as much as they are a monster. "You can stop showing off now."

Otohan's bemused expression morphs into a smirk as they pointedly do another sit-up.

When they do yet another, Imogen exerts her own power, holding Otohan in place.

Otohan's eyebrows raise in surprise, but their smirk takes on a challenging tilt—that feral edge Imogen finds preferable simply because it's predictable.

As Otohan tries to push through, Imogen clenches her jaw and twists her fingers in the worn fabric of Otohan's bedroll, leaning forward slightly as she focuses on keeping Otohan held fast.

Slowly but surely, Otohan steadily curls upward. Abdominal muscles strain to fight the added pressure, and Otohan grits their teeth and breathes sharply through their nose with the effort. When it becomes apparent that Otohan will eventually break through, Imogen abruptly releases her hold over them.

Otohan grunts as they snap upward, nearly knocking their chin against their knees and losing their balance enough that they have to grip the branch with one hand to catch themself.

Imogen barks a surprised laugh and shoves herself upright, only to bend over when she can't quite stop laughing, stifled chuckles escaping between each lungful of air.

That invisible force, that strange sense of gravity, suddenly reasserts itself, clamping down around Imogen's navel and nearly yanking her feet out from under her as Otohan drags her across the short distance between them. The only reason she doesn't trip is that Otohan hastily catches her, hands momentarily unsure where to land from their odd angle but assuredly gripping her biceps once they do find purchase.

"You think you're so funny," Otohan huffs, and Imogen grins despite herself as she meets their weak glare, noting the way their eyes crinkle from a barely repressed smile.

"Says the one who's smiling," Imogen points out. She reaches out to tug one of those dangling curls before she can think better of it, and then she immediately wants to slap herself for doing something so stupidly silly.

"Now who's ridiculous," Otohan mutters. Yet they loosen their grip on Imogen's arms, fingers skimming up to weave through the ends of her hair. They don't tug, though they might just consider it, Imogen thinks, as Otohan's gaze darts all over her face, lingering on her lips.

Again, Imogen acts before she thinks. She leans in and gives Otohan a quick peck on the lips.

Otohan's vaguely amused expression falls into absolute bewilderment. Imogen's playfulness dies at the expression as reality rushes back in: yes, they are both ridiculous, but that fleeting, practically innocent kiss is downright preposterous.

Imogen flushes in embarrassment and starts to pull away, only for Otohan to slip their hands up and around to the back of her neck, tangling their fingers in her hair and tugging her back. Lips meet clumsily, slotting together rather awkwardly from the unfamiliar angle. Noses bump against chins as the two of them expel twin huffs of surprise—Imogen at Otohan and Otohan at their own actions, apparently.

Imogen automatically reaches up, fingers finding purchase in silver curls, thumbs swiping across the sharp hollows of Otohan's cheeks. It only takes a moment of adjustment before awkwardness morphs to assurance, before hands grip tight and lips move with purpose. It's ridiculous, and Imogen doesn't allow herself to linger on that fact as she kisses Otohan back.

[royrockstone]

treat it as a prompt to spread your food motifs thoughts, would love to hear some (especially after finale)

ty for askinggg <333

4x10, as told through food:

Caribbean Air Clear was a big win for caroline ed truthers. caroline’s food stuff has always been a stand-in for her failure to parent— she is either resentful of having to, or unable to, nourish them; she gives food in paltry amounts because that’s how she parcels out affection. and the kids find what she does give them inedible. at the Peter Munion Pitch Dinner, she announces that the portions are going to be small, and the only thing that looks like palatable food in her kitchen (the cheese) is reserved for peter— a person she actually chose to put in her life and seems to be happy with.

in contrast to logan, who tested and punished them around food, i read caroline’s inability to nourish them as more unintentional— she just can’t do it because she feels so much bitterness about her family. i also think there’s gender stuff in there— she's not Womanly bc she can’t cook (or, more likely, have someone else cook) properly, she’s like if the wire mother didn’t even give milk. in some ways, she’s sort of girlish rather than womanly (expressing in chiantishire that she wants to like have fun and drink and fuck and gossip rather than settle into being an older woman who’s best days are behind her. and she gets along best with her girliest kid, roman.) it always makes me feel crazyinsane that the one moment In The Light that roman seems to have gotten is laughing with logan about caroline’s inability to feed them (“three muddy trout for six and fill up on mustard”) those kids had no chance to be fed emotionally or physically lol </3 

meal fit for a king! lets talk about it. it is, first of all and foremost, sweet! it’s a time when food is being used playfully and you’re expected to eat rather than expected to abstain. but theres also such a dark side to it imo, as with all affection for the roys. 1. shiv spits in the blender (in a mirror of when she spit in kens notebook in s3) which is meant to be at least a little bit degrading 2. the whole point is kind of degrading (the name sounds like something logan would do — see boar on the floor, dinner for winners and mole in the hole from the script books) make kendall eat something disgusting, not as a test per se, but as a way of humbling him just a little. food is still lowkey a weapon even when it’s sweet and silly. (also theres some kendall jesus motif— roman crowns him but in a way that’s mocking etc) 3. it’s sweet specifically because the foods are a) unwanted— the roy kids have been starved, of affection and literally of food, and they’re making something genuinely nice with scraps and b) not luxurious— it’s not ortolan or kendalls endive salad, it’s bread ends and cocoa powder. 

there was an interesting moment that mirrored my 4x08 food lore thoughts— ken offers roman rum punch when he’s still trying to woo his board vote against shiv, and roman ignores the punch, pours himself a shot, then grabs a beer. kendall is the one who locked him in a cage and made him eat cake, he’s the reason they had to eat roast chicken, roman experiences his brother as always trying to subordinate him by controlling what he consumes (which is obv a corollary to trying to control him in business.)

on the less thematic/more personally self-serving ed headcanon side of things, nothing has contradicted my hc that roman hasn’t eaten solid food since logan died. all he does is lick Peter’s Special Cheese, drink coffee (sleep deprivation won succession, actually), and drink alcohol. we see roman eat cake at connors rehearsal dinner, pre-logan death and during what he thought was a secure time in the sibling alliance, then never again. his habit of snacking on little bits of fruit and desserts has totally disappeared. tho it's not shown, i could see him eating the night of the election when he realized he won at something and was expecting to crush it at the funeral the next day. if hes becoming logan, hes allowed to eat. but the second he flames out at the funeral and realizes he is, in fact, still a dead man walking, he’d go back to not eating. trying to please the dad in his head, or to express his essential deadness/emptiness without his dad. 

ofc, we don't rlly see the other siblings eat, either (i have laser-focused Roman ED vision so something might have slipped past me. does shiv taste the breakfast tom brings her?) notably, no one ate at the Funeral Planning Committee breakfast, they don’t eat at the tailgate im p sure, i don’t think anyone touched the food at the Munion Pitch Dinner. (tbh concerned for shiv’s fetus re: having adequate calories.) i think part of it is grief and part of it is collective family Disorder and part of it is the good old competitive strong dog weak dog stuff.

i made a joke that roman is going to end up like caroline, but i kind of meant it? i can see him having no food in his house, cocktail in hand, snugly burying himself some place out of the way and fucking around with mild self-destruction for the rest of his life. (altho rather than a failhusband i think he’d try to replace logan yet again and end up with a partner who was pretty brutish or domineering) 

ty again!

[agentrouka-blog]

Hey! Did you find the time to read the affc outline yet? I just know people are seething lol. I wanted to ask, what did you think about the Tyrion outline? That he will “witness incest”? Will he see two people and be reminded of Jaime/Cersei because there doesn’t seem to be any other option. Dany is alone and I doubt she will get together with Aegon VI later in the volume.

Moreover, I feel like the pov Prince of Sorrows is Tyrion’s or Tyrion centric nonetheless because I feel “whores go everywhere” is the answer to the constant question Tyrion asks himself in adwd - “where do whores go”. Maybe he finds out about Tysha and it is painful??

I know at this point we can only speculate because we don’t have any evidence to go off on, but what do you think, can we figure out something about the outline?

Hi there! :)

(Reddit post in question)

I've read it but not in-depth. No time, unfortunately. (Employment is a huge impediment to fandom...)

Here are some rambling thoughts, yay!

I'm pretty sure the Prince of Sorrows refers to concept that Tyrion was supposed to have an encounter with the Shrouded Lord (I think?) in a dream of some kind, probably during his near-death at the Bridge of Dream, which was in the Sorrows stretch of the Rhoyne. What snippets of philosophical musings GRRM put under that header certainly fit a transcendent confrontation with Tyrion's conscience. "Let it go or it will become you. Let them go - will not bring you peace." Tyrion's inability to let go of his own trauma and resulting rage (like Dany, like Theon, like Stannis, like LSH, like Bran, like Arya etc etc etc) is utterly the root of his own villainy and future undoing. So that checks out. GRRM cut it, probably because it may have been too heavy-handed at this point in time. He instead opted to show us a Tyrion descending into complete depravity at Selhorys, with any self-reflection deferred to a much later point.

"Witness to incest" is so vague that I don't think we can even extrapolate it refers to any specific action with the plot so much as it's a self-description.

It's important to remember that this informal little note of an outline is from GRRM for GRRM, and these are prompts or reminders that tie into his already existing thoughts. We have no idea what those thoughts are. A phrase like "KILL THE MOUSE" or "witness to incest" can refer to an intended quote, it can refer to a status he wants to emphasize inside the chapter, it can be a personal reminder to achieve a specific moment or plot point, it can be symbolic. Is the Mouse Shadrich, or is it a code for Alayne, who is a mousy-brown creature scurrying about the castle, different but similar to Arya's Harrenhal mouse era? What it does is beautifully showcase how he structures the more pragmatic, detailed bits of his plot around key points he wants to make. Take the Arya notes. "The joy of giving". Obviously, he is working on complex imagery that juxtaposes "taking a life" with "giving the gift", the hypocritisy of murder for hire - and the genuine peace offered to those who come to die of their own volition. Here, too, GRRM chose to hold back on actually going into these issues in the finished product in Feast-Dance, probably saving it for the climactic escape and/or Arya's confrontation with Catelyn's revenant.

Is the incest Jaime and Cersei, which Tyrion has witnessed all his life? Was it meant to tie into Aegon and Dany (who he learns are intended to marry), or to set up something else, or both? GRRM chose to cut it, anyway, so the sentiment may well come back at a later point, much like the insights in the Prince of Sorrows.

Basically, while the emphasis on Sansa's identity is a pleasantly unambiguous support for her (already obvious) trajectory north in GRRM's own mind, I don't think we'll get much else out of this outline that isn't already in the text one way or the other. We shouldn't be too literal with the notes in there because he wasn't writing an explanation of his plot, he was writing an extremely self-referential little to-do list that may be as reliable as the to-do lists I write for myself on a day off: i.e., I end up doing one thing and scrap the rest in favor of lying around on my couch.

[thedeal-if]

How would the ROs react when the MC gives them a present

(Viktor better like it)

😆 dw anon Victor is actually a sweetheart deep, deep down!

I thought this was adorable and ended up doing a little drabble for all ROs I hope it's not too long lol. I might keep doing the drabble thing if I see it fitting the ask!

Dante is used to being the one giving gifts while receiving nothing in return so, he's quite shocked even if the gift happens to be something small and casual. His initial reaction would be to ask 1000 times whether MC is sure, whether the gift is really for him, and whether MC meant to give it to someone else. Once the shock wears off Dante would be so delighted and excited! He's that kind of person (demon? being?) who loves surprises and changing plans and he wouldn't even try to pretend and play cool about it. Dante would probably end up giving MC something in return so he can "repay the favor" tho. Maybe wouldn't buy something (because he's broke) but he'd find a way.

[It’s only now when Dante is finally holding your gift, that you see how his eyes light up with mirth, pupils darting back and forth between you and the trinket. The disbelief is still clear in his eyes, but it has dimmed down by the unfiltered cheer cursing through him.

“This is for me,” Dante repeats slowly. He holds the trinket close to his chest. As if afraid you’d say ‘no’. You nod either way, and the small bob of your head is the catalyst for the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on the demon “This is for me! And you’re not taking it back.”

“Dan,” you sigh his name fondly “It’s just—”

“Shush! It’s mine now,” Dante insists. Though he tries to tame his voice into neutrality, holding back his emotions has always been something Dante is terrible at. The demon grasps your hand and tugs you towards him “Thanks a bunch!”]

---

Situation-wise, Lilith is Dante's opposite. They've been spoiled before and they've exchanged gifts with people. It's been a while since it's been a personal thing though (nowadays gifts for her are practically bribes or attempts to get on her food side). If MC was the kind of person who likes to give gifts she probably wouldn't be all that surprised. If MC makes an exception for Lilith she would notice the change too, and that would feel just as special as the gift MC got for her. I'd say she's very detail-oriented and she'd find a meaningful way to make MC feel special too even if it's not through another gift.

[As soon as you show them your present, you see Lilith grinning, looking up/down at you eagerly, expecting you to make the move and relishing the possible ways you might do it. With a subtle nod, they prompt you to act. Their eyes flicker briefly towards the gift in your hands.

“I got you something,” you say, and hand it to them.

Amusement floods Lilith’s gaze. They take the present from you, they hold it carefully—but they are only looking at you. Like you’re the greatest gift she could have received. Affection has never been something they’ve tried to disguise, but the moment they channel it at you feels almost like a fire being fanned.

“Thank you, love,” they say softly “Can I?”

When you nod, you expect them to unwrap the gift. Instead, they step closer to you, lean up/down, and press a chaste kiss to your cheek.]

---

Josh is a bit of a contradiction. He receives gifts like he receives compliments: though he likes and feels grateful for them, Josh is immensely awkward about them. Answering properly is something he just doesn't know how to do. It's kinda funny to see Josh break a little when he's always so careful and in control of situations. If MC is someone who has always enjoyed giving gifts he resorts to some sort of default answer that Josh always uses, which he also does when it's his birthday lol. If it's unusual for MC to give gifts Josh's mind would probably shatter trying to find an answer. Dw, inside he's very happy, he just doesn't know how to articulate that.

[“Oh.”

That’s all Josh says for a few seconds. You know him, and you give him time. Your best friend looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Oh, wow. Fuck.”

“You don’t like it?” you tease him.

Josh scoffs, almost offended by the suggestion that he could dislike anything you’d do. He grips your present a little tighter, rolls his eyes fondly, and doesn’t even force back the smile that threatens to spill.

“Of course I do. You know I do,” you can practically see the gears in Josh’s mind turning as his entire posture shifts awkwardly. Like he wants to draw in himself in an attempt to hide from your inquisitive eyes. He ultimately sighs with finality “Thank you, Dot. Seriously.”]

---

Villanelle is the happiest woman alive. If she likes you romantically or as a friend, she's probably given you hundreds of little gifts (cookies she baked or bought, flowers, little doodles, etc). Villanelle has a lot of fun thinking about her silly presents and she believes that sharing is caring. She'd adore receiving gifts and would think of it as an exchange. Villanelle is cheerful and bubbly 90% of the time and she only lights up more when MC does something that makes her happy.

[When she sees you, Villanelle smiles. Then, she looks down, and the gasp the sight of the present draws out of her is dramatic, almost exaggerated. Finally, she shrieks with excitement.

Villanelle is upon you in less than a second. One hand grips the gift and the other is tightly wrapped around your midsection.

“Oh my God,” Villie mumbles when she pulls away. She points at the gift, at you, at herself, buzzing like a little fly with too much energy and too little time “Oh my God!”

“You like it?”

“I love it, silly!” she grins happily. And you believe her. Everything about Villanelle screams genuine glee “You’re amazing.”]

---

Victor is genuinely confused. It probably never crossed his mind that he'd get a present. He doesn't even get presents on his birthday lol (Alekto tried to figure out when he was born but has been unsuccessful). He'd probably think MC wanted something out of him if he didn't know them all that well. Victor isn't all that expressive so he (seemingly) might not even react at all. But seriously despite seeming very aloof, Victor is just very clueless about his feelings and how to properly act on them.

I made Vic's drabble a little longer because this ask was especially about him lol.

[You wonder if Victor would get mad if you laughed. You almost do, when he holds the gift like he’s afraid he might break it. Victor’s jaw is tense, his entire posture is, the discomfort and awkwardness seem to have overcome his very being.

“Who do you want me to give this to?”

That’s the moment you do laugh, much to his dismay. Victor frowns but says nothing. And you take the time to explain.

“It’s for you. I wanted to give you a gift.”

His frown deepens, “Why?”

“I wanted to.”

The giant Exorcist mutters something under his breath. Probably a complaint about your vagueness. But Victor doesn’t seem unhappy anymore. His posture relaxes little by little—you see it clearly, you’re close enough—, shoulders dipping slightly and muscles releasing the tension Victor seems to embrace readily.

With gentle care, he shifts and holds the present with one hand. The other is too busy coming up, slowly, to rest upon your head. Victor pats you twice, staring inquisitively into your eyes. The question is obvious: is this okay? You make sure to smile widely up at him. ‘Yes, it is. It is more than okay.’

“Thanks,” he says simply. Victor’s hand falls limp by his side.

“You’re welcome.”]

---

Aliyah has probably even forgotten what a present is. That's how long she's been without receiving anything, and giving to people who definitely shouldn't have a genie. Aliyah's first reaction is just a frown. Then she'd probably laugh, or force herself to laugh. Aliyah really hates it when someone has the upper hand. If it's an MC whom she's close to. She'd probably say something snarky and seem kind of annoyed. Whatever the trinket is she'd definitely keep though (even if she's not that close to MC).

[“What’s this?” she asks with a sigh. When you open your mouth to explain the meaning and origin of your present, Aliyah rolls her eyes, “Don’t answer.”

You see the conflict well enough to heed her words and stay quiet. To call it conflict feels like undermining whatever Aliyah is feeling, though. Her eyes are a storm. She’s barely holding back a frown, not even her smirk seems sincere. Aliyah purses her lips and stares at the present.

“I’m not going to owe you, you know? This—” her violet gaze finally flickers up to look back at you “This is a one-sided thing.”

‘Things’ are often one-sided with Aliyah, or so she insists on claiming. You smile patiently, “I know. That’s why it’s a gift. Not a bribe.”

That makes Aliyah chuckle, and she thankfully sounds a little lighter than before.

“A pity,” she teases “It nearly worked.”]

---

I've mentioned a few times what it's like being a demon but I've never said anything about angels... Let's just say they don't get gifts often. Nathan likes playing cool. He doesn't like taking situations all that seriously. If MC gives him a gift Nathan would tease them about it (he wouldn't be too mean about it). His true emotions are tightly kept under wraps, but not because he isn't grateful. He is! Nathan is just very sure that being funny is the best course of action and he's dying on that hill. He'd probably run away before Azriel appeared to spew what Nathan truly feels lol.

[Nathan presses a hand to his chest, presenting to you the very image of overdramatic flair. He points towards your present, a silent request for him to hold it, and when you nod Nathan smirks and takes it from you.

“You naughty human,” he tuts “If I didn’t know you I’d say you’re trying to win the favor of an angel! How scandalous.”

You frown, “I—”

“Are my miracles worth this much? You know you could have asked,” You also know that Nathan is lying “Unfortunately! That’s not possible.”

“Nathan, I don’t—”

“I’ll just pay you back some other way, yes?” he winks playfully.]

---

Whatever MC gives Eden is probably the first present she's received in a long time too. Gifts are such a foreign concept to her she'd probably squint at it like she was trying to figure out whether it's a bomb or not. Eden probably thinks she's about to receive bad news lol and she'd just forget to thank MC and wait for them to drop the metaphorical bomb. Whether MC explains or not Eden ends up understanding, finally gives her thanks and genuinely wonders whether she's supposed to get them something back in return.

[Eden grabs the present like it could burn her if she allowed herself to touch it properly. With the tips of her fingers and her arms slightly stretched out. You wonder what expression she would make if she was a little less aloof. But as it stands, she stares at you with a dead seriousness clinging to her eyes. Like you could burn her.

“Um,” you mumble “Do you like it?”

“Huh?” Eden tilts her head.

“The gift. Do you like it?”

“Oh,” the woman finally relaxes, and she pulls the present towards her. You wonder if Eden was trying to figure out what it was. Now, though, she’s trying to figure out your intentions. Eden stares at you with eyes that are slightly narrowed, but you know her well enough to see the appreciation swimming in her white, iris-less pools “I do. Thank you.”]

I hope y'all like the drabbles this took me the entire day to write 😶‍🌫️

[fandomscraziness22]

22 and 46 for end thb locklyle!

hi friend!!! you gave me a sorta specific idea for this prompt, so hopefully it lives up to that, even though it's not *exactly* the same! also apparently it's the anniversary of Lucy leaving? so like, happy anniversary i guess????? lol

to distract (22), because they’re running out of time (46)

“My Talent….”

Lucy trails off in front of him, and Lockwood could finish that sentence a million ways. Your Talent is the strongest thing I’ve ever seen. Your Talent is maddening. Your Talent is dangerous, but that’s why you have a team with you. Your Talent is not the real reason we’re still arguing.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he scoffs and says, “We both know your Talent isn’t going anywhere, Luce. You’re just being a coward.”

And maybe that was the wrong say, because Lucy’s face goes white, and then she grabs her coat. “I am many things, Mr. Lockwood. But a coward is not one of them,” she snarls. 

Lockwood’s taken aback by the ferocity of the statement, not to mention the formal way she addressed him, so it takes him a second too long to realize Lucy has left the cafe. Their tea cups remain full, and Lockwood swears he can see the liquid trembling from Lucy’s pure rage.

I need to go after her, he can’t help thinking. She can’t leave.

Lockwood scrambles for his coat and rushes to the door, ignoring the curious looks everyone is giving him. Right now, he doesn't give a damn about what he looks like to the general public—all he cares about is getting to Lucy.

“Lucy!” he calls down the street, seeing her walking fast against the chilly November wind. She doesn’t turn, but he knows she heard him. His brain is racing as he catches up to her. What else can he say that he hasn’t already said in the past two hours?

Well, there is one thing, and it’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever had to say to a living person. But he might have to.

Lockwood stops in front of Lucy, causing her to pull up abruptly, a scowl on her face. “Lockwood, what the hell?” she gripes.

The light of the ghost lamp they’ve stopped under gives her an ethereal glow, and if he wasn’t in the middle of begging her to stay, Lockwood would marvel at how beautiful she looks. But there’s no time for that.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” Lucy asks, close to angry tears. Lockwood knows she doesn’t cry very easily, and he hates that this is all making her feel like that, but he also knows himself. And he knows, with absolute certainty, that if she leaves like this, he will never recover.

“Because, Lucy, we need you with us. I need you with us. With me.” It comes out halting, in fits and starts, because Lockwood is no good at talking about his feelings. He’s better with action (though he’s terrified to do what he’s been thinking about since Lucy went on that first case with them so long ago). 

She blinks at him, a hint of surprise showing through her otherwise impassive face. She’s quite good at that—making Lockwood question what he originally thought was a good idea, because she’s getting ready to yell at him for what he just said.

Lockwood doesn’t let her get a word in. They’re already so close, it’s not hard to reach for her cheek, to softly pull her even closer.

“I need you,” he repeats in a whisper. “Please, Luce.”

Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the nonexistent space between them, maybe it’s desperation (okay, it’s definitely that last one). Lockwood looks into her eyes one more time, and he spots the glimmer of hope he was looking for. So he closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers.

He meant for it to stay gentle; a plea, a request to stay, to give him another chance.

Lucy has something else in mind.

She pulls away just for a second to mumble a “Finally,” against his lips before pulling him to her and crushing her mouth to his.

Lockwood’s squeak (that he will deny forever ever happened) is muffled in the movement of their lips against each other.

He’s the first to break off, only because his body needs air. Lockwood presses his forehead to Lucy’s, keeping his eyes closed as he says, “That was a long time coming.”

Lucy giggles, half in shock and half in delight. “You absolute tosser,” she scolds him fondly. “I can’t believe you waited till now.”

Lockwood pulls away slightly to really look at her. “Lucy, will you stay? We can work out whatever problems you think you’re saving us from by leaving.”

Her nod is the best movement in the entire world. (Well, maybe second best, he thinks, as he leans down to kiss her again.)

send me a ship and a kiss!

[supermacaquecool]

For the fic asks, how about 22, 23, and/or 36?

Thanks, anon. Appreciated.

Fic asks.

22.Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

90% of the time, afterwards. (I seem to remember I have once or twice tittled the document before starting, and sometimes I have to name the file midway through to know what it is.)

How do I come up with them? They're good if I can use a snappy phrase, preferably one used in canon (A star twinkled thrice it's Sara's best refrain and perfectly fitting for what I want to explore in that fic...I need to resume it, f...) . If that fails, then I think about whether I used a song for vibe inspiration and search for a lyric that feels fitting (Simple dreams is drawn from the lyrics of Nulut's Fragile, for example). If that fails, I think about the main idea or element of the fic, and maybe, just maybe, I can come up with something mildly occurent (Hairy matters and Sketchy plans remain my best puns LOL) And if that fails, I wonder if I can convey said main idea/prominent element in a single word or simple term (Tongue-tied... I got another one tittled Nightly unease... These suck, alright.)

I suffer with tittles and I have asked a certain friend to come up with them for me (Truffle Kerfuffle was their idea lol).

23. Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest?

I don't think any of these are harder than the other. The way it usually goes is that I have abstract ideas I wanna highlight, and I usually have the most trouble coming up with specific scenarios/situations that can illustrate them. I.e For the fic I wanna write with the prompt Cooperation, I wanna showcase the main things Aoi thinks cooperation entails: concensus, obedience, conformity. Now, how does any of that translate to a story? It's up to me to think about it for days until I can come up with something specific.

Beggining, Middle and Ending are all situations. They're all hard until I think up a scene and then I can build upwards or backwards, bridging as necessary. But if you wanna know, I usually start by the middle or the beginning. Endings are wtv feels fitting given everything else, but it's not weird for me to think it up while I'm still trying to figure more meat to the middle or what to do after the start.

36.What fic are you proudest of?

🤔 So, I like all my writing but it's been a hot minute... Maybe Nightly Unease, sans the tittle, because it was fun to play with the formatting and I got to write some really fun details a good friend of mine gave fun feedback to. At the same time, the format experimenting has meant its been on my drive for months bc I haven't bothered to learn how to post it LOL

[pluviacuratio-a]

♣ Okay so as some may have noticed I've lovingly given my ship with @fiercelywinged a tag with lyrics from "When The Day Met The Night" by p!atd

I love the song for one but also like really thinking about it the lyrics fit so well for them.

Bella fits into a sun and moon dynamic pretty easily, especially given the sort of partners she tends to attract. A lot of time she slots herself into the sun position, bright and bubbly and full of energy and life. But, in this case, I really feel like she fits the moon better. And not just because the song itself makes the moon the feminine part of the relationship. She tries to keep herself private, staying out of the spotlight and trying to just focus on making differences for individuals rather than groups at large. She's not actively trying to put herself out there. Her presence is typically more gentle, warm and affectionate.

Keigo on the other hand, he's a golden boy. Number two hero, always in the spotlight and here to charm the masses. It shows in the bigger persona (though it may not be entirely who he is) and just. He's the one everyone thinks of. Constantly the face of the public with his heroics, his modeling, everything meant to put attention on him. He's the one standing in the sunlight there for everyone to see. His actions are meant for bigger groups, more for society than the individual. (Even if that may not 100% be his choice, yknow?)

If we got into actual lyrics, there's a few:

"When the moon found the sun, he looked like he was barely hanging on, but her eyes saved his life in the middle of summer"

Depending on where we put their meeting, it could easily be him starting to question the commission, wondering what needs to be done to just be Keigo, not Hawks. He could just be questioning who he really is, if not Hawks. Who is he without the whole hero thing, without his life as a double agent, without all the glitz and glamor and also dark secrets?

Bella may not have actually seen that, not at first, but I can definitely see her grounding nature, the warmth and affection she gives off prompting some sort of change. (Idk I may be giving my muse too much credit lol) but honestly. Once she did learn more, she would be such a force of growth for him and herself, too.

Then ofc there's "He was just hanging around, then he fell in love and he didn't know how, but he couldn't get out."

I fully believe that Keigo had no intention of falling in love at all, with Bella or anyone else. It's not a good idea for him, when he's a tool of the commission to get things done quietly. Falling in love is dangerous for him and whoever he ends up falling for.

But I also fully see that it's something he couldn't (or rather wouldn't want to) get out of. I feel like he yearns for genuine connections and real, true love for HIM. For Keigo, not for number two hero Hawks.

And that is absolutely something bella can and will give him.