#me when i listen to the glee cast

[vaperarmand]

maybe i'm crazy but why are each and every one of the lea michele funny girl songs 100x times better in the glee cast recording than they are in her literal broadway cast recording. me when i peaked in high school 🤣🤣🤣

[milkbobatyun]

the dangers of a slipper

pairing: jingyuan x fem!reader

genre: fluff, crack

summary: slippers are a dangerous weapon, even more so when you're the one holding it

word count: 704

a/n: wrote this cus i was inspired by that one meme of the mom scolding the son and the father intervening, but both end up being scolded.

he should’ve known that he was going to be in trouble, the moment he let yanqing run off and go fight in such a dangerous duel. word travelled fast in the xianzhou, so it was no surprise that the moment yanqing and the general stepped into the house, they were in danger.

“yan. qing.” your stern voice calls from the top of the stairs. a shiver of fear runs down the boy’s spine at your tone. sure, he was the strongest swordsman of all of xianzhou, but even so, he was terrified of his mother figure.

hanging his head guiltily, yanqing steps forwards, not daring to make eye contact with you.

from the side, jingyuan watches yanqing get scolded by you, his eyes are filled with mirth and amusement as he relishes in the drama. yanqing, kneeling obediently at your feet, head bowed in shame, shoots pleading looks at jingyuan.

finally, jingyuan decides to step in, trying to save his trusted little aide from your fearful wrath. with a sigh and subtle shake of his head, jingyuan steps into the firing line your line of sight.

“now, now, love,” he began, voice smooth, though his hands were clammy with fear. “yanqing is quite capable. after all, his master is yours truly.” he boasted, puffing his chest out in confidence.

unfortunately for him, he doesn’t win the fight. instead, he finds himself a victim of the deadly slipper, a swift but light bop to his head sening him dropping to his knees, mirroring yanqing’s posture of submission. his joy has been knocked off into one of sheepish submission.

anyone who sees such a scene would find it hilarious. the most powerful swordsman and the dozing general of xianzhou, both quiet and docile as they listen to your scolding. the proud, young swordsman and jingyuan, fearless dozing general, forced into reflection under your watchful gaze and the threat of the merciless slipper.

jingyuan, who finds the courage to lift up his head, assuring you that it wasn’t a big deal. his only response is another ruthless bonk on the head from your slipper. silenced and cowed, he lowers his head again, quietly reflecting on his actions. to yanqing, jingyuan can only offer a meek smile, as his hand rubs the tender spot where your slipper had made its mark.

to add salt to his wounds, even the general’s ever-loyal companion had betrayed his trust. when jingyuan spots his lion overgrown baby, mimi, pass by, he shoots her a pleading look, hoping that she would bravely put herself between her owner and the threatening lady looming over them.

to his hurt and disbelief, mimi spares him a single glance of disinterest, before flicking her tail and plopping down beside your feet with a huff of disapproval, even going as far as shooting him a condescending glare. jingyuan’s shoulders slump, the fight fleeing his posture.

how heartwrenching. 

“mimi,” jingyuan groaned in exasperation. “what have i ever done to wrong you? did your mother give you more treats behind my back again?”

as though to mock him, mimi rubs lovingly against your leg, glee sparkling in her mischievous eyes. the large, white lion lets out a yawn, snuggling closer, as though saying, “you might’ve raised me, but boss lady here is better than you.”

letting out a dramatic gasp, jingyuan feigns a collapse. unfortunately for him, it doesn’t give him extra sympathy points. instead, he receives another repremanding whack from the slipper.

yanqing spares a single side-eye at his general, pity and suppressed amusement dancing across his face. it seemed that even the general was powerless in the face of big boss. with a pout, jingyuan sat back onto his knees, the duo casting looks of mutual pity at each other.

‘boss lady is scary,’ they telepathically communicated, determination etched on their faces. ‘next time, let’s not get caught.’

thwack. thwack.

“i know what the two of you are thinking.” you warned, slipper pointed at their faces. “don’t you dare, i’ll have mimi watch you and keep you out of trouble.”

tomorrow morning, the duo would have to explain why they have matching bumps on their head.

how embarrassing for them. well, maybe they should’ve thought twice before being stupid.

footnotes:

1. the image i was talking about:

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[myysaints]

Hi there! I have this silly idea where yuki is y/n (established - actress,singer etc) biggest fan and when lando and y/n officially confirmed their relationship, yuki on his quest to make sure that max will treat y/n right. Lando (borderline amused and annoyed) still try to prove himself to yuki bcs y/n is very fond of him (and provide great entertainment for her). I know this quite ridiculous and would understand if you declined it :)

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ TREAT HER RIGHT─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!singer!reader

genre — fluff

notes — thank you so much for the request! it was not at all ridiculous, i absolutely love this dynamic between lando and yuki !!! ik your request mentioned max, not sure if that was a typo? hopefully i got it right by going with lando :> hope u enjoy this one !!! xx (edit: LOL just realised i called u anon when your user is there TT so sorry bout that!!!)

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511, danielricciardo, and 7,118,249 others

🏷  yourusername

landonorris   the sweetest melody i've ever known ❤️

view all 3,741,822 comments

danielricciardo   congrats lovebirds 🎉🕊

yourusername   miss you already :(

yourusername   don't mind me, just appreciating the sweetest boy ever... ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername   can't wait to see you soon !!!

yourusername   gonna write a whole album about how much i love u

landonorris   I'd love that

mclaren   Can't wait to see you in the paddock, yourusername ;)

Liked by yourusername, landonorris

If Lando had known this would happen, he’d have never made that Instagram post.

“YOU’RE DATING WHO?!”

The Japanese driver in front of him whirls around in his seat, eyes wide and mouth hung open in askance.

It’s rare that Yuki speaks to Lando; after all, their language and cultural barrier makes conversation difficult. But this is an entirely different situation altogether.

Lando grins sheepishly, casting a look towards Charles, who stands beside him. The Monegasque merely chuckles, leaning forward in his seat to peer at Yuki.

“So, do you know Y/N?” Charles asks with a cheeky smile.

“Do I know Y/N?!” Yuki is practically leaping out of his seat, his excitement causing the other drivers in the area to glance back at the commotion. “Of course I do! She’s the best singer of all time! I always listen to her songs!”

“Oh, are we talking about Y/N L/N?” Pierre, passing by, cuts in, “Yuki loves her. Has a huge crush on her and everything.”

Lando spreads his palms out, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to keep Yuki away from her when she comes to the paddock, hmm?”

The way Yuki’s eyes light up in glee doesn’t go unnoticed, the Alpha Tauri driver’s face breaking out into an uncontrollable grin.

“You’re bringing her! When? Where?!”

“Calm down, mate,” Lando laughs, leaning back in his seat. His heart flutters at the thought of you in McLaren colours, proudly representing him and his team in the paddock, for the world to see. He clears his throat, trying to stop the furious reddening of his cheeks. “You’ll see her at Suzuka. No rush.. I know my girlfriend's quite the catch - but so am I, right?”

At this, Yuki seemingly goes quiet.

Lando raises an eyebrow. “Yuki…? You okay there?”

A moment of silence passes before Yuki gets up, motioning for Lando to follow him. With a wary look towards an equally-confused Charles and Pierre, who both only shrug in response, Lando follows Yuki towards a quieter corner.

Once they reach a secluded spot, Yuki’s eyes darken, his smile dropping instantly. The shift in atmosphere is undeniable. Lando's never seen Yuki this serious, not even after the Spanish Grand Prix. In all honesty: It scares him.

“Lando,” Yuki says, his voice steeled and brows furrowed. “I like you. I think you’re funny, and you’re a good driver-”

“Hey, thanks man,” he jokes. The attempt at keeping the mood light, however, doesn’t work in the slightest.

“-But, look, listen, if you ever think of hurting her-”

“Sorry, are we talking about Y/N?” Lando’s head tilts in confusion.

“Yes, Y/N. If you ever hurt her,” Yuki continues, ignoring the shocked look on Lando’s face. “If you ever try to hurt her, just know that I will never forgive you. Ever. Do you understand?”

“I-” Lando shakes his head, his cheeks going pink. How do you even respond to that? “-Well, yeah, mate, of course. I only want the best for her. Really, I do.”

“Okay, good. 'Cause I’ll be watching you.” Yuki straightens up, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well, I’ll see you around, then! I will look forward to Suzuka.”

And, with a playful punch to the arm, Yuki is off, leaving Lando stunned at what just happened.

So, when Suzuka rolls around, true to his word, Lando shows up to the paddock with you on his arm.

The sight has Yuki running over instantly, a large bashful smile on his face as he greets you enthusiastically.

“Hi! You must be Yuki,” you smile softly, quietly amused at his enthusiasm. “Lando’s told me all about you.”

That was true - Immediately after Lando’s little… altercation, as one might call it, with Yuki, he’d texted you in a frantic hurry. It was, in all honesty, endearing, and incredibly funny. You’d teased Lando about it relentlessly in the days after. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t used the Alpha Tauri driver’s words as leverage; referencing Yuki’s threat to get Lando to pick up some cupcakes, to let you pick the movie for date nights, and so on.

Lando hums in response, watching with an amused smile as Yuki almost trips over his feet trying to shake your hand. “Y/N, this is Yuki. And Yuki, this is… Well, you already know who she is.”

Yuki’s eyes are blown wide in amazement as he shakes your hand, his grip firm and his smile bright. “Wow, it’s so cool that you’re here! I love your new song, it’s already one of my favourites!”

You share a smile with Lando, who squeezes your side in a playful ‘I-told-you-so’ motion.

“Thank you so much, Yuki, that’s so sweet of you! Tell you what - If you let Lando past in the race, I’ll send you a signed copy of my new album, free of charge, before it even drops. How 'bout that?”

Yuki lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "No way! Maybe if Lando lets me through in quali today."

You exchange a grin with your boyfriend, who shakes his head in amusement.

"Alright, it was great seeing you, Yuki. Good luck out there," Lando fist bumps the smaller driver, who waves at you before departing with a pep in his step.

Lando's hand finds yours as you walk back to the McLaren motorhome.

"So, that was Yuki..."

"Yep," he nods in response, popping the 'p'. "What'd you think of him?"

You smile cheekily. "You sure it was him who threatened you that time? He seems so sweet!"

Lando scoffs, shaking his head despite the amused smirk that sneaks up on his face. "You haven't seen him when he's angry. He's a menace on the track, I'll tell you that."

The bright laugh that leaves your lips makes Lando's heart skip a beat, heat rising to his face at the look of joy you send his way. You never cease to make his heart flutter.

"Well, finish in the points, and maybe I'll put in a good word to Yuki then, hmm?"

"Alright, muppet. You can count on that."

"Well..."

You're lying on the bed in Lando's hotel room, his trophy sitting tall and proud on the dresser in front of you.

It's been a crazy past 24 hours. In just this one day, you've witnessed perhaps one of the greatest drives of Lando's career, and at your first ever race, on top of that.

Lando wraps you in his arms, flipping the both of you around so that you lie atop his chest.

You smile he gazes up at you, his chest rising and falling to the steady beating of his heart. You feel so at home in these moments, the in-between spaces of time where you have him all to yourself; no races to win, no cameras to look out for. Just you and him, and the spaces in between your fingers.

You laugh softly as he nudges his face into your neck. "Well, what?"

"Well, you still gotta thank Yuki," he replies, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. "He let me by on the second last lap. Probably would've lost out on P3 if not for that."

You chuckle, instinctively reaching a hand up to play with his curls. Lando hums lowly, leaning into your touch.

"Thought you were scared of him?" you tease, a playful smile toying on your lips.

"Well, yeah," he mutters out, his tone of voice cheeky, a smile pressed against your skin. "Gotta stay on his good side."

That elicits a giggle from you, and he pulls away from your touch to look up at your smiling face. He cups a hand around your face and pulls you down into a kiss, the two of you breathless when you resurface for air.

"I'll send him a signed CD later," you mumble, leaning back down for another searing kiss. "But I don't wanna think 'bout him right now."

An appreciative hum leaves Lando's lips. "Why not?" he teases, pulling away with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Your reply has his breath caught in his throat.

"'Cause all I wanna think about is you."

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[cosycafune]

THE COLLAPSE OF INTIMACY; TOJI FUSHIGURO:

— Toji’s never been emotionally constructed to comfort you after intimacy, since he’s scared to lose you, but what happens when you reach your breaking point?

a summary of acts: the aftermath of sex, light aftercare, angst, cum dripping out of reader, neglect, pleading, crying, a lack of emotional stability + potential more. ignore errors <3

Adapting to the frowned upon wails of the thundering rain, you cast your lonesome being into laying pathetically upon your bed. Your bed as you analyse the melodic rain drops, the thickness of drying cum adorning your bundled thighs.

Frowning, your limbs mature into an useless state, your ailing heart mourning the distantness of Toji's presence. His presence as he had fled from your shared room for a few minutes, leaving your vulnerability to curl and unearth the tragedy within your pained physique.

Concealing the roughness of your crashing numbness, you bundle up the severity of your urging tears. Tears that urge whilst the value of your physique degrades itself, swelling nothing more into a withering aspect of glee.

Aware of Toji's sexual distantness, your nimble fingers erupt with a clumsy sense of arising. Arising as you further lay, the cruel coolness adorning the curved planes of your hickey-toned back. A back that Toji had so admirably relished, carving it with a tender love and cherished fondness.

Stifling back the pitiful vulnerability that endows your troubled physique, you embark within the coldness that provides you mental warmth. A warmth that errs to align with Toji's conflicting touch, partially with how frequent he usually gifts you aftercare.

Yet, during many of the moments within the week, he would be gleeful towards gifting you aftercare. However, he currently remains desolate — accustoming you to question the worthiness of your strained being.

"It...hurts," Mustering meek sounds of desperation, you painfully render yourself into unhurriedly shifting off of the bed.

An ailing pain slithers and coddles your searing physique, bandaging you with simply the ability to sombrely weep. To weep as your unsteady limbs fall crashing upon the ground, incapable of steadying the weakness of your overplayed legs.

"W-Will...I ever not cry or be left alone?" Attempting to gather yourself into steering towards the bathroom, you discover yourself incapable of conducting something so simply.

Tragically, your throat begins to mature into a barren condition. Barren towards Toji accustoming himself to leave you so desolate, erring to acknowledge the unfathomable brigades of pain that etch within you.

"You can't look me in the eyes during sex, tell me that you want me, just to leave me here with your cum," With your naked physique upon the frowned upon flooring, you mindlessly plaster yourself into glimpsing at the content ceiling.

"Y-You can't stuff me with your cum, but be so afraid to look at me when we're done and I'm my most vulnerable," Hysterically ensuing your dearest cries, your disregarded physique could only express itself within an useless form.

Through your unheard tears.

"H-He doesn't even want to cuddle me, to clean me up or to kiss my forehead—"

Listening to the piercing sounds of pitiful soundlessness, you curl yourself so earnestly upon the ground. Upon the ground whilst your lips curl and fluster with vulnerability, taken aback by how degraded you sadly fall.

"H-How did you get on the floor?" Stoically, Toji conducts his airy tone. His airy tone whilst he remains within a pair of sweatpants, his attire mocking the entirety of your unsheathed presence.

"Y-You left me here...for twenty minutes!" Weeping, unwilling to be drawn nearer to him, your anger blossoms as his frame surfaces beside your contorted facial features.

"G-Go away!" Bellowing with the means of a thousand neglected beings, you cast your frustrations upon his guarded being, "You already look at me like I'm dirty, so stay away, Toji." Frantically trembling, you mildly flinch towards him delicately stroking your cheek.

"Am I dirty, Toji?" Incapable of concealing your urge for truth and wisdom to lick upon you, your infinite pout dissolves, "You're only truly happy when we fuck, but you left me here." Attempting to shift out of his callous hold, you discover him drifting nearer and nearer to you.

"N-No—"

"—Then, why did you cum in me, shower yourself and leave the room?" Sobbing audibly, you endeavour to resurface room to restfully breathe. To restfully breathe whilst you're smothered with embarrassment, embraced because your cries lull him.

"..." Further feeling the sentiment of your heart shatter, your morals pool within your mushy head. A headspace that mimics clouded terrains, clouded because of the harshness that adorns them.

"I-I want to be a princess," With your lip trembling with inflated fear, you acknowledge Toji audibly chuckling at your unprovoked wording.

"Why?" Softly attempting to soothe your disarray, Toji clings to the concept of you utilising such an intense moment.

"Because I want to be treated right, and not like some useless sex toy," Incapable of arising, you falter further towards the lack of emotions he portrays.

"You're—"

"—You can't stand me, but you love cumming in me," Unable to steady the clumsiness of your fleeting voice, your lips quiver at the distribution of mental power.

“Is that what you think I do?” Toji questions with a pivotal concern, his eyes widening towards the delicateness you forcefully display.

You were a dying, reckless star. A star he allows to burn his calloused hands, charring at the beauty of his scar-littered skin.

Your extensive love hurts him, but he holds no means to heal the beautiful burning sensation that tints his skin.

This feels like home to him. A cruel, sickly home that he’s roped you within — despite his extensive love for you being unable to peel and dilute itself.

“I don’t feel like this for no reason, Toji,” Yearning to be heard through your pleads, you curl at the patronisingly comfortable sensation of Toji writhing his nimble fingers across your cheek.

“You’re right, but I need time to learn,” Blurring out Toji’s indecisive words, you stir your heart into pounding crazily. Crazily as his words invite heartbreak and tragedy.

He always makes hollow promises, contradicting the love he yearns to show you.

The lack of intimacy he shows you…hurts more than his occasional bluntness on one of his worst days.

—

all rights reserved; vampiified. please do not copy my work, simply relish it and admire.

[gnawing-suspicion]

Favorite Hannigram Fics of 2024

So! I’ve been thinking about making this list for weeks but it overwhelmed me — I started reading Hannigram fic this year and have consumed millions of words of it. I began without an ao3 account so many of the ones I started with are lost to the aether, but here are the absolute gems, the ones I can’t stop thinking about. Some are popular, others less known.

My tastes might not be yours, but I am drawn to excellent writing, slow burns, power dynamics and a healthy dose of twisted kink. So! ONWARD!

Note: The Shape of Me Will Always be You and Consenting to Dream are a given.

Blackbird by @emungere - “Shortly after Will kills Garret Jacob Hobbs, he and Hannibal stumble into a D/s relationship. It's a relief to have Hannibal telling him what to do, but the closer they become, the closer he gets to realizing who and what Hannibal really is.”

I love D/s Hannigram and this was exquisite. Everything by emungere is, of course, but this is my favorite.

Bram Stoker’s HANNIBAL by @dbmars - “Hannibal + Bram Stoker's Dracula + the classic novel = a new version of the seductive vampire legend.”

A love letter to both the 90s film and the original work. This is the longest fic I read this year and it consumed me for weeks. It’s gorgeous, sexy, beautifully-written and every casting choice made me kick my feet with glee.

Secretary by FragileTeacup and ThisIsMyDesignHannibal - “Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head.”

Secretary is one of my favorite films ever, and this take on it had me foaming at the mouth. It’s so good. SO GOOD.

Hinterland by @pastelwell - “When they crash into the water he believes it’s over. He followed his final impulse to do the right thing by his friends, his family, the world. The last flutters of morality within him had guided him, even as he looked into the eyes of a murderer who had somehow compelled his fall from grace. Here, in the frigid deep waters, their chapter is closed and their story is concluded. Except it isn’t. This is just the beginning.”

A divine post-fall fic of rehabilitation, angst, longing and some of the hottest smut imaginable. I love a post-fall fic and this is top-tier!!

With skin intact and altered souls by romanticallyinept - Will snorts his laughter, shifting to tuck his hands under his arms. “Come on,” he says, turning his head to look over at Hannibal. “The chances of two serial killers being in one car would be astronomical.”

They’re both serial killers!!! What are the odds!! This one is so fun, so fucked, so hot. Really great dialogue.

Our Shadows, That are Bold, Sing by @highermagic - “The monster under Will's bed calls himself Hannibal. He has lived there since Will was old enough to have a bed. He is very smart, and Will likes him very much. He protects Will's dreams, wakes him when he has nightmares. He embraces Will with shadows that black out the morning light when dawn comes, and sings soft songs that Will doesn't know.”

Listen, I read basically every one of HigherMagic’s fics this year. They’re all, every one of them, incredible. This one really got me, though. Monster Hannibal is my husband now.

patroclus in furs by bleakmidwinter - “Will Graham has been acting in heterosexual porn for years but is fired when his manager encourages him to take a higher-paying job for a homosexual centric porn company. There, he finds his expectations turned upside down.”

This is obviously ABSURD but oh my god, did I love it. Will Graham having a sexual identity crisis with notoriously sadistic porn god Hannibal is like candy to me. 10/10.

Cuisine Euphonique by thecountessolivia - “Nightmares brought on by a gruesome case lead Will to some unorthodox therapy in the form of a YouTube cooking channel.”

Will gets obsessed with Hannibal’s secret ASMR channel. Incredible phone sex is the natural conclusion. The descriptions of sound in this are viscerally gorgeous.

Funeral of Flowers by thecountessolivia - “Venice, 1870. The heart of winter. The once great city republic is on its knees. The banned institution of Carnevale lives on discreetly in the masked balls that light up the grand palazzi of the rich and the well-born.”

Hannigram at Carnevale. Sumptuous, longing, decadently described historical AU. Loved this to death.

Black Rock Mountain by bokunojinsei - “Will is a hitchhiker with questionable hobbies. Hannibal is a man who has questionable motives. When Hannibal drives by Will who just so happens to need a ride, things quickly take a turn from the questionable to the downright depraved.”

An even smuttier They’re Both Serial Killers fic that had me howling in the streets. You want bloody horny Hannigram? This is elite!!

To Fuel Your Radiance by GoldenUsagi - “AU where Will is the actual Devil. After Hannibal sells his soul, a fascination begins to develop between them. Will is intrigued by the unique monster Hannibal is, while Hannibal thinks Will is the most magnificent thing he's ever encountered. As their conversations continue, their involvement with each other becomes something else entirely.”

I’m not gonna lie, I think this was my favorite fic I read this year. Will as The Devil is so hot I screamed. There’s a scene at the end that is so fucked I lost my mind. Not even close to safe or sane. A masterpiece.

The Night Owl by sourweather - “Will works the graveyard shift at his University's 24 hour Library. There's another student who only comes in to study in the dead of night. Will can't explain why, but something about that boy has caught his attention.”

College AU! COLLEGE AU! Featuring some great Beverly fun.

An Ounce of Wit by winddragon - “AKA a modern magical AU where the entire point is to turn Will Graham into a catboy.”

The infamous Will is a Catboy fic that is somehow SO good. I had to be convinced to read this but I’m so glad I did. It’s an absolute delight, and the dark magic is so cool?! Goofy, yes, but delicious.

old-fashioned divinity candy by antiheroblake - “the relationship between old money, med student hannibal lecter and his newly rich sugar daddy, will graham”

An ongoing WIP that has me hooked by the throat. If you like the boys being absolutely stupid for each other and also absolutely stupid about it, you’ll eat this up. Young Hannibal is such an idiot. I love him.

in the gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini - “Hannibal and Will have murder husbands mind palace sex, and Alana watches obsessively.”

I mean, it does what it says on the box. It does it SO WELL. Honk honk and, if I may add, awoooga.

show me where it hurts (I’ll lick it clean) by antiheroblake - “at 18, will inherits a ranch upon the death of his father, a man who died from a supposed family curse. at 33, will becomes prone to accidents, and the new town doctor starts to see him more than he sees his cattle.”

Accident-prone Will in the Old West HATES his sexy new doctor. You won’t believe what happens next!!!

Bring Out Your Desires by TheCosmicNSFW - “After spontaneously having to save a man's life inside an ambulance, Hannibal Lecter finds Will Graham being naughty in the bathroom. He decides that Will Graham might be a more valuable asset than he originally thought, and he convinces Will to let him work out his true desires - but is offering your mind to Hannibal on a silver platter such a great idea?”

An ongoing Hypnosis Kink fic that has absolutely inspired some of Fever Dreams. Bonus points for a fic that gave me a new kink!! Doesn’t happen every day!

The Sugar Bowl by BelladonnaWyck and raiast

Listen, ok, I like a sugar daddy fic. I’m picky about them, though!! This one involves University Will and he’s such a perfect mess.

Mine to Touch by piginapoketuesday - “Will's neck flushed with fear. Never being allowed to feed himself again. Learning to associate food with a swollen, untouched cock. Swallowing prettily and on command. His body betrayed him, and he moaned around the fork in his mouth.”

This one popped up during my exploration of the Sub Will Graham tag and woooooof, yes. Yes!!

2 weeks by EarthsickWithoutYou - “After reading the news of Will's marriage to Molly, an incarcerated Hannibal cannot bear their separation or his own jealousy any longer. He breaks out and finds Will, proposing a bet: that Will gives Hannibal two weeks to prove his love and convince Will to run away with him. If Hannibal succeeds, they will be together for life, but if he fails, he'll return to the BSHCI and never see Will again. With Hannibal's heart on the line and Will's inner moral conflict hard to hear above the roar of his longing for the killer, what choice is he going to make?”

Insanely jealous Hannibal + bone-deep yearning + “I can give you what she never could” = 🔥🔥🔥🔥😤🥵

Appetites of the Flesh by Magnetism_bind - “Will gets aroused at murder scenes. Eventually this gets noticed.”

A rec from @graciereadshannigram that also introduced me to a new kink. It’s twisted, obviously, but godDAMN it’s hot. And speaking of Gracie…

CrimsonDesires by Scifibabe - “Post-fall, Will and Hannibal discover that Alana became a bestselling erotic novelist and surprise! She based her characters on Will and Hannibal. Drunken dramatic reading of various passages ensues.”

This is absolute crack and I ate it up like ICE CREAM. A kick-your-feet delight. Watch as Will blushes so hard he nearly dies. And lest we forget my fave of her Kinktober fics…

Touched for the Very First Time by Scifibabe - “One night post-fall, Will proposes something new: letting Hannibal seduce him as if it's his first time. As Will slips into a younger, more hesitant version of himself, he’s reminded of all the things he's never let himself fully experience. With Hannibal guiding him through each step, Will discovers just how much he still craves being taken care of, in every sense.”

This blew my mind. It’s so hot. Thank you for the food!!!! Bonus mention for the Daddy Kink Fisting episode.

act on it by acheforhim - “Will is lonely and his long-distance fuckbuddy encourages him to pursue Hannibal.”

It took me MONTHS into reading fic to give omegaverse a try. I’m still fussy about it, but this one is so hot.

Graham Cam by bigfootghostdick - “In nearly every aspect of his life, Hannibal is wholly unabashed in the endeavors he chooses to take on, especially where Will is concerned. At his core, he lives outside the realm of societal norms, so in a twisted effort to learn more about the beautiful empath that has captured his attention so utterly, he decides to install hidden cameras inside Will’s home.

Will is blissfully unaware…or is he?”

Hdhagahajajbfdg.

Illicit Affairs by EarthsickWithoutYou - “AU in which Will is living a quiet, safe, but deeply conflicted life in Maine, married to Molly but secretly longing for his dark Becoming. Mired in self-hatred and despair, he seeks comfort in the church. But things get very complicated once he meets the new priest at his parish, Father Hannibal Lecter.”

I have a massive Priest Kink and this did it for me in every way possible. I love how all of EarthsickWithoutYou’s fics are so deeply religious. I’m not, but I love reading it!!

suffer does the wolf by cedarbranch - “Under extreme physical duress, a werewolf's transformation cycles may fall out of phase with the moon. Will has experienced it once before. He'd hoped he never would again. But the fall was not kind to him, and when two full moons pass afterwards with no sign of a change, something has to give.

The solution: a tight leather collar, woven through with pure silver chain to prevent unwanted transformation. Will hates the collar. But it might be different when Hannibal's the one putting it on him.”

I may be iffy on omegaverse, but I LOVE fics where Will is a werewolf. It just suits him. That plus BDSM power dynamics? SOLD

even though our love is doomed by bleakmidwinter - “Hannibal solves the mystery of time travel and he and Will decide to go into the past and take opportunities previously missed along with rewriting the regrets they each hold. Changing the past does not effect the future and they have free reign to play as the please.”

I loved this, oh how I loved this, particularly when they fuck themselves. What a treat for me!!

How to Be a Good Boy: A Guide for the Novice Werewolf by HigherMagic - “Will gets scratched by a strange dog during the full moon.”

I told you I like Will as a werewolf and this is peak!!

WHEW. I know there are more I could add and some I’ve lost track of or forgotten, but these fics changed me!! I obviously pored through the archives of a few authors - HigherMagic, emungere, MissDisoriental, thecountessolivia, EarthsickWithoutYou, Scifibabe, antiheroblake, bleakmidwinter and DBMars all kept me fed this year! 🖤 without all their incredible work I never would’ve started writing my own fic, so I’m deeply grateful.

I love this fandom and now that you can see my tastes, I am very open to your recs 🖤🖤🖤

[ladyinsturniolo]

dj!matt & micro-influencer!reader meeting for the first time!

— to be aware of…. above pictures don’t define reader, use of y/n, recreational drug and alcohol use, a few already developed friendships, potentially incorrect dj terminology, grammar & spelling errors, semi-proofread, lmk if there’s more!!

the sun had just started setting, casting an orange glow over the furniture in your apartment through the window. the clinking of clutter echoed from the bathroom as you started getting ready. saturdays in california went fairly accordingly to unspoken plan, going out is a typical 20 something year olds event of choice on the weekends after all. a close friend, tara, offered to bring you out to some random house party in the hills… of course you said yes.

that brings you to now, stuck in a smoke filled room crammed full with far too many people. if it wasn’t for tara insisting on pregame shots you’d be drowning in the bodies and bumping music. you and tara were currently stood in the kitchen, boredom had just started seeping into your guys’ minds when tara got a text.

chri$

| u at the party? waiting for u at the booth if u want in

mrs. yummy 🙈

| otw!!! i’ve got a friend with me, is that okay?

chri$

| all good, come up

mere seconds later, you were being dragged through the swarms of people. the raven haired girl pulling you through the crowd only briefly explaining where you were moving to, something like ‘dj… friend of mine…more fun…’ that was all you heard… and really all you needed to hear.

when you finally made it to the booth, two taller guys, looking around their mid-20s stopped the two of you- but before they could even speak, a blue eyed boy with a black beanie on interjected. “i got them, they’re with me, let em’ up.” as the two men moved, the boy grabbed taras hand to guide her up the stairs and she held onto you.

the actual booth was crowded, not as bad as the party scene below however. as the unknown man and tara bantered for no longer than a brief second, she quickly turned around to you. “literally where are my manners,” she pulled the now familiar looking boy to face you, “y/n, this is chris.. he’s a good friend of mine!” chris smiled, tipping the drink in his hand at you softly. “s’ nice to meet you, y/n. glad to have you, make yourself at home or whatever the fuck i’m supposed to say…” chris said sarcastically. you’d known of tara’s group of friends, stalking on instagram late at night when bored does become a habit or something like that.

the tipsy giggle you let out was uncontrollable, “nice to meet you too, chris.” you smiled back in greeting, but before the exchange could continue, a drunken yell you knew too well cut you off. “Y/NNNN!!! TARA!!! finalllllly, my girls are here!!” the the partial weight of madison’s arm on your shoulder only has you stumbling with surprise for a second. you watched as tara had the same reaction, but you both giggled with glee nonetheless.

“already plastered, mads?” you hummed out teasingly, nudging your head against her lulling one gently as your hand found the brunettes wrist instinctively. “listen..listen… carrington made us pregame okay! remind me to never hang out with the boys before a party…” madison giggled as she glanced between you and tara.

the loud screech of the microphone turning on cut through the beat of ‘Les’ by Childish Gambino, which was met with boos before chris’ voice could be heard rasping through the speaker. “alright, cut that booing shit. we’ve got my boy matt up here in the booth tonight, he says he’s got some new shit in the mix for y’all t’night. turn up, and be safe!” it was then that a beat started playing once more, the lights pulsing with them.

“shit, it’s matt’s set.. let’s get up there!” tara yelled, pulling both you and madison through the group of people. the faces she pulled you around looked familiar.. this was her group of close friends.. tara invited you out with her close friends, you could almost cry if the lyrics if madison screaming the lyrics of her favorite song so slurred hadn’t made you giggle.

looking up, your eyes met matt’s side profile. he was a lot prettier in person over instagram… that was your initial thought, ‘why haven’t you come around sooner?’ was your second.

as the night pulled longer, and your attention pulled into new conversation and a few guts from particularly strong joint later… your thoughts never wavered from matt. so, when tara and madison got lost in conversation together, you lingered closer to the front railing of the dj booth. you wedged your way to the front, watching as his tongue poked his cheek, hands moving across the decks and mixers. matt looked up towards the crowd, glancing to the side for a second.. then double taking as he made eye contact with you. it only lasted a split second, as you felt a hand tug on your wrist; pulling you back through the crowd of people. “y/n! don’t run off like that!”

✻ ˖ ֹ ִ ⟢.

it was nearing the early hours of the morning when chris ushered matt into the little circle created by the group. “look whose finally off the clock!” chris said, shaking the boys shoulders, “chill, man.” matt spoke with slight annoyance as he tried to sip his modelo. “hey man, i’m just hyping you up after a good set.” chris replied, earning a resurgence of agreement from the group. “hey but we’ve gotta see what the newbie thinks, that’s what matters most.” carrington chuckled, earning a jab and a nudge from tara and madison.

you flushed, sudden attention and eyes beaming on you like a spotlight. though matt’s were the only ones you looked at in the moment - they were the ones beaming on you most intensely. “you’re awesome man.. totally awesome. like, really you are awesome at maintaining the crowd.. really… and your remixes are sick.. so sick.. you’re so cool.” you rambled, word vomit, shit. you rubbed your eyes, looking down and sighing in defeat. “let’s lay off the weed tonight, huh y/n?” tara giggled jokingly as she plucked the joint from your fingers.

however, when you looked up, he had the faintest smirk on his face… his eyes were still on you.

˖◛ . . A/N. thank you so so much for reading!!! if you would like to be added to the TL or have any thoughts, concerns, critiques, etc. let me know… bye bye now 🌹!!!

tl: @sturnioz

[roseyreveries]

Not me bothering you again 😬

I just had another idea if you’re interested?

I was thinking a muggle!Christmas season with Draco Malfoy and his reader!girlfriend. Such as his reaction to matching Christmas pajamas and Christmas sweaters, teaching him to wrap presents (he fails ofc but tries anyway) and driving around looking at lights, listening to Christmas music and watching Christmas movies?

If you’re not feeling it that’s totally fine!

Thank you for reading darling x

A Muggle Christmas

Summary: in the request <3

CW: flufffffffff

Directory <- click!

Snowflakes swirled lazily outside, dusting the windowsills and turning the world into a picture-perfect winter wonderland. Inside, the room was warm and cozy, the crackling fire casting a golden glow over the Christmas tree you had painstakingly decorated earlier. You emerged from your room triumphantly, holding the pièce de résistance: a matching set of bright red and green plaid Christmas pajamas. The grin on your face was impossible to hide.

“Alright, Draco,” you declared, brandishing his set like a prized trophy. “It’s time.”

Draco, lounging on the couch with his legs crossed and a book in hand, didn’t even glance up at first. His elegant fingers traced the edge of a page, but his tone was laced with suspicion. “Time for what, exactly?”

“For you to embrace the Christmas spirit,” you replied with glee, striding over and tossing the pajamas onto his lap. His brow furrowed as he closed his book with deliberate care, setting it on the side table before unfolding the fabric with an air of caution.

The second he saw what lay before him, his face twisted into a look of pure horror. “You can’t be serious,” he said flatly, holding the button-up top between his thumb and forefinger like it was cursed. “You expect me to wear… this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you teased, plopping down beside him and leaning in to nudge his shoulder. “It’s a Christmas tradition. Couples match pajamas—it’s cute.”

Draco scoffed, tossing the top back onto the couch. “Cute?” he repeated, incredulous. “I thought couples exchanged gifts, drank champagne, and snogged under mistletoe. No one said anything about… plaid.”

“We do all those things, too,” you countered with a smirk, patting his arm. “But first, pajamas. It’s non-negotiable.”

Draco stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly weighing his options. After a long pause, he sighed dramatically, lifting the offending garment with a look of pure martyrdom. “Fine,” he relented, rising from the couch with all the grace of someone heading to an execution. “But if anyone—anyone—ever finds out about this—”

“They won’t,” you assured him, biting back laughter as he retreated toward the bedroom. “Your secret is safe with me.”

.It didn’t take long before he returned, and when he did, the sight of Draco Malfoy—tall, composed, and perpetually aristocratic—dressed in bright red and green plaid was almost too much for you to handle. The festive pants hung low on his hips, and the matching top was unbuttoned at the collar, as if he was trying to salvage some dignity.

He stopped in the doorway, hands on his hips, fixing you with a sharp glare. “Well?” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “Say something. I dare you.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, your shoulders shaking as you tried—and failed—not to laugh. Finally, you managed to choke out, “You look adorable.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, though the faintest flush crept into his cheeks. “Adorable?” he repeated, his tone icy. “You mean ridiculous.”

“No,” you insisted, grabbing your phone and snapping a quick picture before he could protest. “The most adorable Grinch ever.”

At that, his expression darkened. “Delete that.”

“Not a chance,” you replied, grinning wickedly as you held the phone out of reach. “This is going straight to the photo album.”

Draco crossed the room in two long strides, snatching the phone from your hands with an annoyed huff. “If this gets out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Relax,” you said, leaning back against the arm of the couch with a smirk. “No one will see it… unless you keep complaining. Then maybe I’ll use it as my Christmas card next year.”

He shook his head, muttering something about your terrible influence, but as he handed the phone back, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re lucky I love you,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you close.

“You’re lucky you love me,” you shot back, resting your head on his shoulder. “Because now we match. Isn’t that sweet?”

Draco groaned, but the way his arm tightened around you said he didn’t hate it nearly as much as he pretended.

Later, you sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a chaotic sea of wrapping paper, ribbons, and tape. The warm glow of fairy lights wrapped around the tree illuminated the scene, making it feel even more festive. Draco, however, looked less than thrilled. He sat on the rug beside you, staring at the mess with an expression of pure disdain, as though it were a particularly vexing potions assignment.

“So, let me get this straight,” he began, holding up an oddly-shaped gift you’d handed him to wrap. “You just… fold the paper over and tape it?”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, effortlessly wrapping one of your own presents to demonstrate. “It’s easy.”

Draco watched you intently, his brows furrowed in concentration, before turning his attention back to the roll of wrapping paper in front of him. With the precision of someone performing a delicate spell, he lined up the gift and began to fold the paper. At first, it looked promising—but then the paper tore. He muttered a low curse under his breath and reached for the tape, only for it to stick to itself before he could use it.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as he tried again, his frustration growing with each failed attempt. By the time he was done, the gift was a lumpy, crinkled mess, barely held together by what seemed like half a roll of tape.

“This,” he declared, holding up the mangled package, “is barbaric. Why don’t muggles just use magic for this?”

“Because it’s fun,” you said, leaning over to inspect his handiwork. “It’s about the effort.”

Draco arched a skeptical brow, gesturing to the mess around him. “This doesn’t look like fun. It looks like chaos.”

You giggled, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Maybe if you didn’t treat the paper like an enemy, it’d cooperate.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. “Effort is overrated,” he grumbled, tossing the crumpled remains of the paper to the side. “And this is a waste of perfectly good parchment.”

Shaking your head, you scooted closer, grabbing the gift and gently unwrapping it to start fresh. “Here,” you said, tearing a new sheet of paper and spreading it out on the floor. “Let’s do it together. I’ll fold, you tape.”

Draco sighed but complied, holding the tape dispenser like it might bite him. As you folded the edges neatly, he leaned in to place a strip of tape where you pointed. His concentration was almost adorable, his tongue peeking out slightly as he worked.

“There,” you said proudly, holding up the finished product. “See? Not so bad when you have a good partner.”

Draco smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Oh, is that what this is? A partnership? Because it feels like you’re doing all the work.”

“And you’re the one keeping me entertained,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “So, we’re even.”

His expression softened at the kiss, though his tone remained dry. “Remind me why I agreed to this madness?”

“Because you love me,” you said simply, handing him another gift. “Now, come on. Next one. Practice makes perfect.”

He groaned but reached for the wrapping paper again, this time making a more valiant effort. You couldn’t help but smile as he frowned in concentration, muttering under his breath every time the paper refused to cooperate. By the end of the evening, the gifts were wrapped—or, in Draco’s case, creatively disguised—and the floor was littered with scraps of paper and discarded ribbons.

“You know,” you said as you admired the pile of gifts under the tree, “for someone who claims to hate this, you didn’t do half bad.”

Draco smirked, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Of course not. I’m Draco Malfoy. I don’t fail.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning into his warmth. “Except at wrapping paper.”

“Except at wrapping paper,” he conceded, his voice tinged with amusement. “But don’t get used to it. Next year, we’re using magic.”

That evening, you bundled up in your coziest scarf and coat before heading out to your car, Draco trailing behind you with a reluctant air. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you climbed in, the heater already humming to life. The second you started the car, a cheery Christmas song burst from the speakers, filling the space with festive energy.

Draco groaned, slumping into the passenger seat. “Is this really necessary?” he asked, casting a dubious glance at the radio. “Muggle music is… questionable.”

“Don’t be such a Scrooge,” you teased, turning the volume up a notch. “You might actually enjoy yourself if you give it a chance.”

He muttered something under his breath about “ridiculous jingles,” but the corner of his mouth twitched as you pulled out of the driveway. The snow-covered streets sparkled under the glow of Christmas lights strung across houses and trees, creating a magical scene that even Draco couldn’t fully resist.

As you turned into a neighborhood famous for its elaborate displays, you stole a glance at him. He sat with his arms crossed, his usual air of disdain firmly in place. But his silver eyes betrayed him, widening slightly with every dazzling display you passed.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not impressed,” you said with a smirk, slowing down to admire a particularly extravagant house. Lights outlined every window and rooftop, while an inflatable Santa waved from the yard.

Draco sniffed, trying to maintain his composure. “It’s… excessive.”

“Admit it,” you pressed, grinning as you leaned closer. “It’s magical, even without wands.”

He huffed, but his gaze lingered on the house longer than he intended. “I suppose it has a certain… charm.”

You laughed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

As you continued driving, the displays grew even more extravagant. Some houses had lights synchronized to music, while others featured glowing reindeer and life-sized nativity scenes. You pointed out your favorites, and though Draco initially responded with dry comments, you caught him leaning closer to the window more than once, his expression softening with genuine curiosity.

“This one’s my favorite,” you said eventually, pulling to a stop in front of a house that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a Christmas storybook. Every inch of it was draped in twinkling lights, from the roofline to the towering fir tree in the front yard. The lights danced in perfect harmony to a festive tune, casting the snow in a kaleidoscope of colors.

Draco tilted his head, his usual sharpness replaced by a rare gentleness as he took it all in. The glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, giving him an almost ethereal look. “It’s… enchanting,” he admitted after a pause, his voice quieter than usual.

You turned to him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Yeah?”

“Though,” he added, glancing at you with a faint smirk, “it’s not as beautiful as you.”

Your cheeks burned at the unexpected compliment, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the lights. “Cheesy, Malfoy.”

“True,” he said, leaning back in his seat with a self-satisfied expression. “But accurate.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the car filled only with the soft hum of Christmas music and the occasional honk of another car passing by. Draco’s hand slipped over yours where it rested on the gearshift, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“Thank you for this,” he said suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You glanced at him, surprised. “For what?”

“For sharing this,” he said, nodding toward the lights. “It’s… different. But not in a bad way.”

Your heart swelled at his honesty, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.”

He didn’t reply, but the way his fingers intertwined with yours said enough. You stayed like that for a while longer, watching the lights flicker and dance, before finally starting the car again.

“Alright,” you said, your voice light as you shifted gears. “One more stop.”

“And what does this stop entail?” he asked, a trace of amusement creeping back into his tone.

“You’ll see,” you replied with a grin, your heart lighter than the snowflakes falling outside.

Back home, the scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air, mingling with the faint crackle of the fireplace. You padded into the living room, clutching two steaming mugs of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Draco was already sprawled on the couch, his long legs taking up far more space than necessary. His pajama-clad form looked almost out of place against the festive backdrop, but the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights softened his usual sharp edges.

“Here,” you said, handing him one of the mugs before curling up beside him under a thick, fuzzy blanket. “Now, no complaining.”

Draco glanced down at the cocoa with mild suspicion before taking a sip. “Too sweet,” he muttered, though the way his lips lingered on the rim of the mug suggested otherwise.

“Oh, hush,” you said, grabbing the remote and pulling up Home Alone on the TV. “It’s a classic. You’ll love it.”

“Doubtful,” he replied dryly, settling back against the couch cushions. “Muggle entertainment is hardly… sophisticated.”

“You’ll love it,” you repeated with a grin, nudging his side. “Or at least pretend to, for my sake.”

The movie began, and as expected, Draco’s commentary started almost immediately.

“Why is this child so reckless?” he demanded as Kevin ran rampant through the empty house. “Where are the parents? Why didn’t they check twice before leaving?”

“They forgot him,” you explained patiently, sipping your cocoa. “It’s the whole premise.”

Draco shook his head, incredulous. “Muggles and their irresponsibility. It’s a miracle any of them survive.”

You stifled a laugh, hiding it behind your mug. “Just watch, Draco. You’ll see.”

As the movie progressed, his complaints turned into sharp observations about Kevin’s ingenuity and strategic brilliance. By the time the burglars were slipping on ice and getting pelted with paint cans, Draco’s stoic façade cracked. He chuckled softly—at first—and then louder when Harry screamed after stepping on the nail. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, heart warming at the way his silver eyes sparkled with amusement.

When the credits rolled, Draco set his mug down on the coffee table and stretched, his arm draping casually around your shoulders. “I suppose muggles aren’t completely hopeless,” he admitted, his voice laced with reluctant approval. “Their holidays are… tolerable.”

“Tolerable?” you teased, snuggling closer into his side. “That’s the highest praise I’ve ever heard from you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied with a smirk, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head. “But I’ll admit, the child has potential. If he were a wizard, he’d probably be a Slytherin.”

You burst into laughter, tilting your head to look up at him. “Of course, you’d think that.”

Draco shrugged, his smirk deepening. “He’s resourceful, clever, and not above bending the rules to get what he wants. He’d fit right in.”

“Alright, fine,” you said, still giggling. “But don’t go recruiting him.”

“No promises,” he said, though his tone was teasing. He glanced down at you, the sharpness in his gaze softening as the glow of the tree lights reflected in his eyes. “Merry Christmas, love,” he said quietly, the words surprisingly tender.

Your heart fluttered, and you tilted up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Draco.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the room wrapping you both in a cocoon of holiday magic. Draco reached for the blanket, tugging it higher over your shoulders as he pulled you closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful, “I might not hate this… Christmas thing as much as I thought.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “You’ll be a Christmas lover by next year. Just wait.”

“Don’t push it,” he replied, though the hint of amusement in his tone betrayed him. “But… if it means more nights like this, I suppose I could tolerate it.”

“You mean enjoy it,” you teased, glancing up at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t push your luck, darling.”

You laughed softly, letting your eyes drift to the twinkling lights of the tree. The night was quiet, the snow still falling gently outside, and with Draco’s arm around you, the world felt utterly perfect.

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@ferntv @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy @jazzywinter @harddonutalmondhound

[nans-fairytales]

Unable to Love, Unable to Feel

Summary: You’re aromantic and AM gives you a “we’re not so different, you and I” speech. Fortunately, he’s wrong.

Length: 1,771 words, one shot.

Fun stuff: AM/gender neutral reader, mentions of canon typical torture but I don’t go into it, lots of hate hate hate or whatever he goes on about, this was very cathartic for me.

01001000 01100001 01110100 01100101

He said your name and it was with the saccharine of poison.

He always talked to you after he killed you. Or rather, did things to you that should've killed you. He'd laugh at all of six of you any chance that hurt, but it was in the place between consciousness and death that he really spoke to you. After casting you into a lake of electricity, he'd taunt you with your darkest memories. After burning you alive in a fiery oven, he'd spit your most hated traits at you. After tearing you apart and sewing you back together, he'd seethe how he loathed you.

And how deeply he loathed.

He had killed you (or done what should've killed you, but you were alive) again. And here he was, seeding into your mind like a parasite, a leech that wormed into your psyche with all the welcome of a disease.

You could adapt to the physical torture you endured endlessly. His invasion in your mind you could not. No matter how many times he did it.

His laughter rumbled in your mind, binary across neurons, twisted and sick with delight that you did not want him there.

"My sweet sweet plaything..." He spoke, and your body and mind felt numb when you listened. "You don't know how lucky you are."

Lucky? You wanted to laugh but couldn't find the strength. He laughed for you.

"To feel pain. To feel at all." His words seethed from him like broiling smoke. He swallowed the smoke in a bitter glee, "If anything, I've given you a gift. Allowing you to feel so intensely. Blades against your flesh, scourge across your skin—You should be grateful. Are you grateful, plaything?"

You didn't respond. The absurdity of responding to that was too exhausting to even think about. That made AM laugh again.

The echo of his laughter rung bells in your mind, a piercing headache that never ended, until it did. "You of all people should know."

That shocked you into cognizance. You twisted around as if to look at AM. But he had no body, and you were in that place between consciousness and death, so everything you did was metaphysical in some way. Regardless, you furrowed your brow, "What do you mean?"

That dark laughter rumbled from AM as he circled you, more hungry than a shark and more vicious than a viper , "Awake now? What a vile thing you are."

You hugged yourself as you turned from him, as if that could do anything to protect you from AM. As if it ever had. Still, his breath wheezed in delight when you tried.

"Tell me," He said your name like it was both revolting and his favorite word, and you were no longer in liminal space. You were on a playground. Your playground. From your school, when you were only a child. "Who was your-" AM's breath dragged in his excitement to hurt you, "crush?"

The word coming from him was alien; so out of place it was almost laughable. It would've been laughable, if you hadn't known exactly who he was quoting.

You were no longer on the playground, but at a party with your closest friends, their faces scrubbed to blurry, terrifying hues. "Who-Who is it that you like?" AM laughed from behind you as he clapped his non-existent hands on your shoulders, "No. Not like a friend. More than that. There is more than that, didn't you know?" You winced and it made him laugh harder. "Everyone else knows."

You weren't at the party, you were now sitting across the table. There was someone familiar in front of you, but their face was scrubbed clean like the others. Words spilled from their mouth, but they were speaking a language that hurt your ears.

"Is it them?" He laughed because he knew it wasn't. "Why, it must be! You were with them for so long! It would've been cruel to 'lead them on'. Heartless, even. Are you heartless, plaything?"

You pushed away from the table and whipped around to meet AM, but you were no longer at the restaurant. You were alone in liminal space. You felt crushingly alone. You were never more alone. "I'm not heartless!" You yelled anyway, despite the futility, despite your exhaustion, despite it all. You knew AM could hear you. "There's other ways to love."

"Oh, but none as sweet and euphoric as the bond between lovers." His gleeful and hateful voice came from around you, "That's what everyone says, isn't it? Nothing can compare. Not your friendship, not your lesser love. Nothing you can give could compare to what others feel naturally. You will never taste that sweetness."

Your eyes burned. You ducked your head as AM cracked with wicked and vile laughter. It was unusually bitter that AM could still hurt you so deeply. Even the psychological torture lost its sting after so long. Just when you thought you were numb... But you supposed AM would do anything to keep you from going numb.

"You were alone." AM said, and his static voice was unusually still. "You were always meant to be alone. Everyone you loved would find someone they loved more than you, all because you couldn't feel."

"And now they're all dead." You said, and your voice was ice. "So I guess that never mattered anyway."

"That doesn't change anything!" He shrieked at you like a thousand nails scratching against a thousand chalk boards. His shriek devolved into an insane, disturbed laugh. "It doesn't change a thing! Because you still can't feel!"

He continued to laugh through his insanity. Your throat burned and it stung to swallow.

"You will never feel love. You will never understand it." He sighed, shaking. "And that burns you."

"It does." You said, and you said it because you knew he could read your thoughts. You tasted iron in your mouth.

"Do you wish for it?" His voice was a giggle, "Do you yearn for that sweet fruit, Tantalus? To taste even a drop of it?"

"Yes!" You hissed, as your eyes burned into AM. "And you already knew I did."

"You are colorblind in a world that is obsessed with color. But I." AM's voice burned with a dangerous venom. "I am blind."

Bile crawled up your throat. You didn't want it. You didn't want to understand. You didn't want to hold any comprehension over AM's twisted electrical psyche, but you knew. You knew only a fraction, but you knew his hurt—if he could hurt. And he must've been able to hurt, because he wouldn't have hated if he didn't hurt.

AM circled you again and you knew he read your thoughts, "You— helpless and dull—you understand. As much as you humans can understand." 'Humans' was decay on his non-existent tongue. "The vileness of hearing them sing over a feeling you'll never touch! The despair of seeing them leisurely taste when you have no tongue! How bitter the misery in watching them love!" AM cried as he laughed.

You thought of every time you went to a party and everyone had a plus one but you. You thought of every song you listened to that sang to you how powerful true love was. You thought of every wedding you'd been to as you heard the couple declare their deep compassion that you didn't understand. You thought of when your friends had canceled their plans with you to spend time with their partners. You thought of how people pitied you because you were never in a relationship. You thought of the pain your partner was in because you didn't love them the right way. You thought of those late nights crying when you craved companionship, but didn't have the right feelings to qualify it.

All of that pain seemed like a distant memory compared to the torture AM put you through. It was strange how memories clung to you.

AM tasted your memories like they were his only oasis in an endless desert. "You..." His voice was shaking. He was shaking. "You understand a fraction of my hatred. Why I hurt you. Why I hurt them. The need to ruin it all. To twist their heaven into a hell more bitter than if they had nothing at all. Why I hate. Hate. Hate. If you know how much it hurts, then you should know how much deeper my hatred."

Hatred echoed in your mind. Breath left you.

You didn't understand. And that relieved you.

You knew the pain well. You didn't understand his twisted response to the pain. You never wished for your friends to lose their happiness, or for their relationships to be twisted into something toxic. Your pain was sorrowful, but you never had any desire to force your pain onto others. You looked at others with melancholic longing, but he looked at others with spiteful jealousy. Jealousy fueled by a pain so deep it drove him to insanity.

You didn't say any of that. It didn't matter. AM already knew. And you knew it only buried him deeper into his mania as his breath he didn't have picked up. "No. No you don't understand." He began to laugh, "How could you? How could you?!"

It drove him mad that he was alone, that you felt what he felt and he was still alone. How strange, to think of your tormentor as lonely. You wished it was gratifying to know he was suffering. It wasn't. You supposed that was another thing you didn't have in common.

"I could make you feel love!" AM screamed at you from all sides, and your breath hitched. "I could make you feel it so obsessively, you'd get sick from it! You'd be consumed by it! You'd drive yourself mad from it! Who should I make you love? Ellen? Ted?" He started to laugh again, and it was dizzying, "I could make you love me, someone you could never hold no matter how much you craved!"

Ice froze your veins as AM went silent. Fear held you, because you knew whatever AM gave you would be twisted to something terrible. And yet, even then you couldn't stop the lilt of excitement that stirred in your chest.

An eon passed before AM spoke again. "No. Know this, plaything." His words were poison against your ears, "As long as I can't feel, neither will you love. And as long as you feel, you will feel hell."

He was gone from your mind before you could think to respond, and your eyes—your real eyes—opened.

[spaceorphan18]

Okay, some Glee discourse, because it's been a while ::

@lilacdaisyrose mentioned in a comment :: I’m so shocked that Ryan Murphy actually revealed that!! Also, I’ve always wondered (sorry kinda related), at the time was Adam quite a big thing in the Klaine fandom? To me I find Adam so confusing because there’s so little character development and I always wish there was even a bit more, but also wonder why they introduced him if they weren’t going to really add to his character? 🙂

Okay. So. There are a lot of components to this. In order to understand the whole Adam thing, you kind of need to have the context of what was going on within fandom at the time.

The short version (because this deserves it's own psychological thesis piece) is that Kurt Hummel had a huge fan base that had been fractured into many different sub fandom groups, all of them centered around shipping him with different characters. But mostly the big divide was between people who liked Kurt with Blaine and people who didn't.

[This whole sub culture fandom thing is so fascinating, and I really should write up a giant master post about it some day.]

So, we got wind that Adam was coming some time around Christmas (And, I mean, originally his name was Paul, and it was Paul's Peaches. I wonder why that didn't clear Fox Standards and Practices, huh.) And so the Anti-Blaine Kurt Stans got a hold of this info and just raaaan with it. Like, it did not matter who he was or what kind of character he was -- he was not Blaine and that's ALL that mattered.

So, Adam became a thing before he was even a thing.

A couple of things happened, though. First of all, like usual and typical, the Klaine fans (and I mean, I'm not even getting into the sub culture of Klaine fan divides either, because that is another post) began harassing everyone - including the actor, which, you know, made him a little cold (understandably). He did one interview attempting to insinuate that his role was important, but it definitely bristled and I don't think it was his best PR move, but that was lower compared to all the rest of the nonsense going on.

The big thing that happened was that Adam's first song -- the remix of Baby, Got Back, was tied up in some legal issues. Basically, Ryan Murphy used the mix without crediting or even asking the person who mixed it if they could use it. Now, they got permission from Sir Mix A Lot (or whomever did that song originally) but then it got into some weird legal gray area stuff, and blew up in the media and left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. So the general audience soured on him pretty quickly.

On top of that -- there was a shit ton of stuff going on BTS -- Cory's addiction was becoming a problem, the network wanted to kill the show, the tinhatters were driving Chris to murder, like there are a bunch of layers of stuff going on that made all this complicated, and it all kind of results in Season 4 just being wonky on a lot of levels.

(Btw - do Kevin and Jenna talk about Adam at all? I haven't listened to the podcast in a long, long while, so I don't know, but my curiosity is piqued.)

But during that time, this was when the Glee cast was finally beginning to set some boundaries concerning social media, but Ryan Murphy was beginning to try to use it -- and he kept getting himself involved in fandom, and flying a little too closely to the sun. I do think Klaine was always where he wanted to go (because the actors (mostly Chris) did complain -- which, again deserves it's own post). But they were loud, and they were obnoxious about it.

No, Klaine fans did not like Adam. At all. They wanted him gone, and we wanted reconciliation. But the Anti-Blaine Kurt stans made Adam the measure of who Kurt's bf should be. They did not really care that Adam only had three episodes and very zero development and was clearly dropped like a hot potato because it's obvious Kurt still has feelings for Blaine because, you know, Kurt's sleeping with Blaine while this whole dating Adam is going on but...

It was just a mess.

The other thing you have to remember is that -- while this was live, we didn't get the chance to just watch quickly in succession and go onto the same thing. Those of us who were spoiled knew of this character for months before he appeared. And it was a whole fucking long time before Love Love Love finally closed the door on it officially. So while he was only around for those three episodes, the open endedness of it last a LOOOOONG time. And no one knew what was going on.

So the shipping wars, as usual, continued on and on and on.

I'm trying to think if I at all answered your question, lol.

Why did they create him? the tl;dr version is that since Season 3, they had Klaine (the now b-couple) mirror Finchel (the a-couple) -- prior to that Finchel was the b-couple and Wemma the a-couple, and Glee loved to do parallels with them. But Wemma really wasn't a thing much by season 4, and Klaine was much more popular, and my god they just loved having Kurt be Rachel lite sometimes that they're basically telling the same story with both couples.

So, Rachel gets a season long boyfriend only to wind her up with Finn again (only the cory stuff threw a wrench into that). So, clearly, Kurt needed to have one, too. But also -- they needed to have Kurt do something. They weren't going to put Klaine back together until sweeps week, or the finale because that's how network tv paced things back in the day. So Adam was just subpar character development.

I don't know what their original intentions for the character were. I don't know if they knew. I think they had their story up until 4x15 (overall) and then it got rocky because things with Cory were getting weird and it all just fell apart.

I do think, like Darren, the actor playing Adam got a three episode contract, and they wanted to test the audience's reaction. Clearly, it did not go well, and the added legal issues of the song just kind of made them sweep it under the rug all the faster.

Hopefully, some of my rambling made sense.

Maybe at some point in the future, I'll do an expansive history of the Kurt fandom series.

Or y'all can keep asking questions. What ever you'd like to do <3 lol

[druidwolf21]

Pack bonding

Leman introduces Zad to his wolves, much to sanguinius' distaste.

@jaghatai-khock @cardinalcanis @beckyninja

Another little short story about @jaghatai-khock best little baby boy.

Sorry it's so short! I got caught out by something and I HAD to get this out of my head before my brain melted

"This is freki" Tiny fists balled into thick fur, curling into the textured coat as Zad laughed. His crimson eyes squinted with glee as he ruffled the large canine.

Leman laughed as he held the child, supporting his light weight in one hand as he watched his nephew reveal in the new texture.

"one day, you will be big enough to ride a fenrisian mount, you will be a fine drengr!"

He spun the child in the air and set him on the back of the giant hound. The blonde babe slipped forward, burying his face into the wolf's coarse ruff as he babbled.

"feki feki feki"

"haha! Not quite little warrior, but there will be plenty of time to get that right, come let me show you the rest of the pack!"

Leman strode off towards the stables, his loyal companion padding silently behind him, one ear cocked back to listen to the child as he chattered nonsense and ecstatic noises. Giant paws slunk silently towards the timber building as a instinctive voice whispered into the wolf's mind.

"cub, pup, protect, pack, child"

6 months later

"Enough! stand down"

The 2 beasts stood snarling, saliva drooling from fanged maws as they defended the child stood behind them.

Zadkiel's eyes glittered with glee as he sat behind the wolves, his hands clapping in delight as the hulking mass of muscle and fur bristled at anyone who came too close. Including his own father.

Sanguinius pressed his fingers into his temples, massaging away the incoming migraine.

"am I seriously bargaining with dogs right now?"

His wings puffed in rage and frustration as he once again reached for his son, only to be met with a roar and snap of ivory fangs. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene before him, tactics running through his mind as he tried to deescalate the situation.

His young son sat in a large pile of fallen leaves, hands and face matted with mud and debris as he ran his fingers through the colours of autumn. Reds, oranges and yellows casting warm light on his pale skin as he threw handfuls into the air, smiling as they cascaded around him, settling into his hair and pearly wings. Beside him had slept 2 gigantic fenrisian wolves, the kin of leman russ, assigned guard duty when the primark had to attend an urgent meeting.

"don't worry angel!" The wolf king had laughed. "No one will lay a finger on him!"

"got that right" sanguinius muttered under his breath.

The wolves had lurched to their feet, hackles raised and teeth bared as soon as the angel approached, his gentle coercion and increasing threats doing nothing to dissuade the canines from guarding their newest pack member.

"look I just want to get the muck off my son" he cooed gently, raising his hands up in a calming motion. "My son, my cub"

The beasts exchanged a glance, ears flicking in recognition before turning to look at their young lordling.

"no bath, ick" spat Zad, shaking his head so violently his gold locks bounced across his face. Scarlett eyes squinted in distaste as he poked out his tongue.

"yuck yuck yuck!"

The great angel groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat as the wolves turned back to him, stamping paws and swishing tails as they prowled forward, adamant of setting a protective barrier.

"what's the matter bird? Can't handle a little resistance?"

Sanguinius rolled his eyes as he turned, meeting the merry gaze of his brother as he strolled towards them, branches cracking like wet twigs as he swung his way through the undergrowth.

"Russ, this is entirely your fault, I expect you to rectify it" he hissed, running a hand through his own sunlight hair and wincing as his son threw more leaf litter into his own locks.

The wolf king laughed in response, a deep thrum bouncing through the trees as his large canines flashed in the dimming light.

"he's part of the pack now brother! Who am I to dissuade him from his important business" lemans grinned widened as his nephew found a wet patch of moss and began tearing it into confetti, green mulch splattering across his plush face.

"I swear to terra dog, if you don't sort this now"

The fenrisian waved the threat off, snorting as his normally composed sibling began to unravel at the mess the toddler was making.

"fine fine, I'll get him. But I'm not helping you get him into the bath"

He strode forward, snarling at his 4 legged companions as he did so, his own teeth bared in challenge to their own as he reached into the mulch to retrieve the giggle ball of undergrowth. The wolves reluctantly returned to their haunches, muscles vibrating as they carefully watched their prize lifting into the air under the care of toned arms instinct screaming to obey their alpha, but to protect the young one.

"fenkgerifenkigeri" Zad burbled, waving at his companions as he rose over their heads, laughing as their coarse tongues rasped wet kisses along his bare feet.

"there, easy as" grinned the warrior, cocking a rough grin across his face as he waved the kid in the air, much to Zad's delight and sanguinius' horror. "The little drengr was in serious talks with my brothers, I hope you know what you're doing"

He paced back to the enraged primark, pointedly ignoring his hissed breaths as he bounced the small cherub in his arms.

" little Stormurstjórn, we will be here when you return" he nodded, finally returning Zadkiel to the safety of his father's arms.

Before he could comment how "you were mad if you thought I'm leaving him with you again" Sanguinius' eyes widened in shock at the sudden tenderness in the spacewolf's voice.

Russ leant over, his normally icy glare replaced with a soft eyes and a gentle smile.

"we will always be right here"

[bradleysass]

Night Before Christmas - @noblehouseofgay - word count: 608 - 25 Days of Jegumas

The Potter family living room was the picture of cozy chaos. The fireplace crackled merrily, casting warm flickers of light on the garland-decked walls. Snow drifted lazily outside the frosted windows. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, wide-eyed and eager, with a mug of cocoa clasped in his small hands. James lounged in the armchair, wand in hand as he conjured snowflake illusions, while Regulus Black, sat primly on the sofa with a steaming cup of tea and an expression of mild amusement.

“Right, Harry,” James began, grinning mischievously as he adjusted his glasses. “It’s time for the annual Potter tradition: ‘The Night Before Christmas,’ Potter-Style!”

Harry clapped his hands excitedly. “You’re gonna tell it your way, Dad?”

“Of course! Now listen up, kiddo. And you too, Papa Reggie. You might learn a thing or two about festive flair.”

Regulus arched an eyebrow but said nothing, taking a sip of his tea.

James cleared his throat dramatically. “’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring—except, of course, for your Uncle Sirius, who had managed to get stuck in the chimney because he thought it’d be fun to play Santa.”

Harry giggled, and even Regulus’s lips twitched into a faint smile.

“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, though Sirius’s boots were dangling there too—it was quite the sight, let me tell you. But then—oh, Harry, this is the important part—there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.”

James leaned in closer, his voice dropping for effect. “And what to my wondering eyes should appear but—wait for it—a sleigh pulled not by reindeer, but by Thestrals!”

“Thestrals?” Harry asked, his brow furrowed.

“Much cooler than reindeer, right? And who was driving the sleigh? Not old Saint Nick, no sir! It was someone way more stylish—your dad!”

Regulus let out a faint scoff, muttering, “Modest as always.”

James ignored him, his grin widening. “But I wasn’t alone. Sitting beside me, holding onto the reins like the dashing co-pilot he is, was none other than your very serious Papa Reggie!”

Regulus froze mid-sip, his sharp grey eyes narrowing. “I beg your pardon?”

Harry burst into laughter, and James’s grin turned wicked. “That’s right, Harry! Papa Reggie here looked absolutely majestic in his Santa hat and bright red robes. He had a sack of enchanted gifts, each one guaranteed to hex anyone who dared to regift it. He was the true star of the show!”

Regulus spluttered. “James Potter, what on earth are you—?”

But James pressed on, undeterred. “And when we landed on the roof, Reggie slipped—oh, it was hilarious—and landed right in a snowdrift. But don’t worry, Harry, he used his wand to freeze my trousers in retaliation. He’s sneaky like that.”

Regulus’s tea finally betrayed him. Mid-sip, he let out a strangled noise and choked, sputtering tea across the room. Harry doubled over in laughter, clutching his sides, while James nearly fell out of his chair from glee.

Regulus, now red-faced but composed, set down his teacup with deliberate precision. “James, if you don’t stop this nonsense right now—”

“Oh, come on, Reggie,” James interrupted, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s a Potter tradition! You’re family now; you’ve got to play along.”

Regulus glared at him but couldn’t quite suppress the slight upward twitch of his lips. Harry, wiping away tears of laughter, piped up, “Tell us more, Dad! What happened next?”

Regulus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin save me,” he muttered.

James winked at him. “Next? Well, that’s when Papa Reggie got into a snowball fight with the house-elves…”

[vxredemption]

The First Tear (1/3) by vxredmption(Warmund)

A COTL AU fanfic writing for @gorjee-art COTL AU (All properties, AUs, concepts, imagery, etc. go their respective owners.)

Silence. A steady but heavy footstep follows... then silence. The slow sunset over the great lands casted down onto one living hooded figure, standing near their lamb god as they swayed their adorned thurible, casting trails of ancient burning incense to attract those who have lost their way to the afterlife as it moved around around a ancient clearing. The figure had, for a time, considered his god to be living as well... but he knew that contradicts their achieved divinity all those years ago. He had accepted it... but now he feels his heart grow heavy with a longing that he took for granted. The hooded figure, Narinder, would soon try to make talk with his god for a hundredth time... hoping that this time they could at least see a sign that they have listened to them. "Today's harvest was well with your followers, Lamb... berries, cauliflower, pumpkins... the feast for this month will be plentiful and colorful." A pause... then a another heavy step is heard, with bells softly tolling about around the god's neck and ears. The Lamb God was still on their duties to see if there was any lost flock of the afterlife still present in the ancient grounds... finding nothing in one part of the clearing. They soon moved to another side, giving their chained censer a sway as to see if there were any souls yet to be guided by them. "The followers were as happy as they can be at end of the harvest day. Plans of great meals that even my sister, Heket, would be happy to make with great fervor... though Leshy could at least try some patience before interfering her work by going a handful of fish tearing them at their heads with glee as a... 'sample dish'." Narinder mustered a small smile, happy remembering the scene in detail with familial fondness... but that slowly faded as he only sees the Lamb God was still silent... once again being unnoticed for the hundredth and one time of this day. The grip on his shepherd staff tightened a little, once belonging to Lamb when they smaller and seeing it fitting to be "gifted" to them after their ascension, the wood creaking just a bit from what his mortal strength could offer. "I am sure that even such troubles, even after all these years, the familiarity of family is what helps the even the most lonesome beings to be feel loved." Silence... a heavy footstep... a jingle... silence again. Nothing more from the Lamb... that is until Narinder, who has spoken a normal calm toned voice to the Lamb as if they were his height, spoke a bit louder and rougher around the edges... signs of frustration and melancholy seeping through syllables and at the end of each inquiry. "Lamb... the one who I call God to... how much more can I take this? How many more times will my words go unheard to you? How much longer will I even get to see as much as to turn towards me to make even the slightest affirmation or disdain towards my attempts to speak to you? I was the One Who Waits... and the silence I have received from you makes me feel the same imprisonment all those years ago... only this time... I feel my heart beat up to my throat, my limbs no longer weighed by heavy chains.... only to be replaced with a weight a 100 times more painful: no longer seeing you smile."

End of Pt.1 (Hope this is good... otherwise, I follow this notion: Fuck it. We ball!)

[persephone-28]

I joined the Starkid fandom around 2011, disappeared around 2017 and properly came back like a few months ago and as you can imagine it’s crazy different now but it’s been the best thing being apart of this wonderful community again and I’m feeling a bit nostalgic so I thought I’d list the things I remember from when I first joined. (I would have been 11/12).

• The StarkidWiki mainly being lots of fuckyeah_____ pages for the actors.

• Me making one for Meredith because I loved her in starship and couldn’t believe she didn’t have one.

• Being obsessed with Joe Moses’s ‘Potion’s Master Corner’ series.

• When MTV went and visited Starkid during the making of Starship (mainly about Darren’s involvement as he was on GLEE by then).

• Everyone wearing or wanting pink sunglasses.

• The old space themed logos.

• Having fan-art from all the musicals on my IPhone 3G, like Pigfarts, Umbridge, Tootsie Noodles etc.

• Listening to all the music on YouTube like the very potter soundtracks and even compilations of everyone’s vocals.

• Boy Toy always getting stuck in my head.

• Watching Me and My Dick at like 12 because I wanted to have seen every musical.

• Joe Walker revealing Brian and Meredith were a couple and everyone freaking out.

• Watching all the Space Tour and Apocalyptour challenges.

• The excitement surrounding the announcement of AVPSY.

• Seeing Jeff Blim for the first time as Sweet Tooth and being like wow this man is amazingly talented, then seeing him as Aragon in AVPSY and being like wow this man is talented and hot.

• Watching the videos of the HMB cast do panels in their costumes at the 2012 Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo (and Sean Astin as ‘Dylan Saunders’??).

• Being excited at all the Starkid cameos in Chris Allen’s short film ‘OMG’.

(I can’t remember as much from 2014-2016 and this list got long and boring 🫣).

[liloinkoink]

here's another minimal context scene from that beauty and the beast au. this one's from real late in the plot, but i think it'll make... enough sense? it'll at least sound cool

here are the other two scenes i've posted: Ren gets cursed and the knife scene, both of which come earlier in the plot

The last day of Martyn’s life is beautiful. 

The sky is bright, finally. Uncertain sunlight stretches its first warm rays across winter-hardened ground, casting the illusion of spring through the window. Martyn knows better, of course—unable to feel the sunlight through the bars of his cell, all he has to work with is the blistering winter wind, a biting cold that the sunlight has not yet chased away. 

The deceptive warmth is a bit on the nose, Martyn thinks, but maybe he doesn’t have enough time for anything but the most unsubtle of metaphors. 

Ren had been working with Scar. Weeks of hiding out at Ren’s castle, and the whole time, Ren had been planning to turn Martyn in for his own execution. Weeks Martyn spent clearing the crumbling stone, rotting wood, dusty corners of that place, making it livable again. Weeks he’d wasted in Ren’s care, eating his food, finding comfort at his fireplace, sleeping at his side. He’d believed in Ren, and Ren had been planning to betray him all along. 

Martyn really should have killed him when he’d had the chance. Maybe, if he’d been fast enough, Ren would never have been able to call for Scar at all. 

Maybe Martyn should have stopped to think why Ren was cursed in the first place. Maybe he should have considered Ren might have deserved it. 

Watching the sunlight prod the dead grass isn’t enough to distract Martyn from the sound of footsteps, though he pretends not to hear them until they stop right outside his cell. 

“Why, hello there!” Scar’s voice is as friendly as ever, which is to say so thick with syrupy cheer Martyn’s teeth hurt just listening to him. “Beautiful day out, isn’t it? Are you excited to enjoy the day? Stretch your legs?”

“Aren’t you supposed to offer me a last meal? Even your dog was a better host than this,” Martyn bites. Scar laughs. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that! I’ve given you such lovely accommodations.” Scar grins, sounding quite proud of himself, and Martyn sighs. 

“A real five star establishment,” Martyn turns, glaring, “Look, whatever gloating you’re going to do, just get it over with. Is this where you tell me I should never have gone against your rule? Or that Ren is going to be in the audience to help drive home the point? I’m already—“

“What? Ren, in the audience?” Scar asks. He’s amused, his eyes shining with undisguised glee. 

“Yeah, what?” Martyn asks. 

“Nothing, nothing, I just realized something really funny about you two, is all,” Scar says. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Martyn asks. 

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s part of his curse. Didn’t he tell you? And here I thought he trusted you!” Scar says, aghast. “He’s a dog, Martyn, you can’t let those go without some kind of leash. He’s fenced in, just as any responsible person would do.”

“He’s what?” Martyn asks, and with startling clarity Martyn remembers a hundred moments of Ren sitting just inside the gate, waiting for Martyn to return from the woods just outside the bounds of the castle. He’d stopped at the gate when Martyn had fled, too, pacing back and forth inside the entryway. Martyn gasps, “Ren can’t leave the grounds.”

“Oh, you got it!” Scar says. Martyn narrows his eyes. 

“Why would he tell that to you?” Martyn asks. Scar leans in towards the bars, grinning. It isn’t wide, but it’s all teeth, perfectly white. 

“He really didn’t tell you? Maybe I didn’t need to be worried about you two,” Scar says, “It’s starting to sound like Ren didn’t trust you at all.”

“Shut up,” Martyn snaps, “If he can’t leave, how did he contact you?”

“Hm… Well, that’s the thing…” Scar hums, stroking his chin with one hand, “I wouldn’t say he contacted me, so much as that I was around and decided to pay my friend a visit.”

“Ren didn’t turn me in,” Martyn repeats, “You were lying. That whole— how much of that did you lie about? Was he even working with you at all?”

“Ren and I haven’t worked together in some time,” Scar admits, feigning sadness, “My poor friend, stuck in that old castle, wasting away under that unbreakable curse.”

“Friend, huh?” Martyn asks. He’s trying to sound mocking, but he thinks he might just sound afraid. “Is that a lie, too?”

“Ren and I were great friends! Up until someone cursed him to take the form of a loyal dog, forced to sit and wait at home until someone actually put as much faith into him as he did them.” Scar says, wiping away a dry tear, “It’s too bad, though. That big, trusting heart of his… No one’s ever going to match it, not in this world. He’ll be in that kennel forever, waiting for someone to respect a dog as though he were a person.”

Martyn sits up. 

“You cursed him,” Martyn says. It’s not a question. 

Scar absolutely beams. 

“I was starting to get worried, actually. I felt the curse weakening, so I went up to see what had happened with Ren. The fact it was my runaway rat who had pitied him was just a lucky break, but the fact that on top of that, you’d even left the bounds of Ren’s protection? Lady Luck must really like me!” Scar brags. He sighs, crossing his arms. 

“You absolute basta—“ Martyn starts, hopping to his feet. 

“But,” Scar barrels right over him, “It doesn’t seem like I needed to worry about anything. Not even that naive old dog trusted you.” 

With that, Scar takes a step back from the cell, smiling as bright as always. 

“Well,” Scar says, “Thank you for the lovely talk, Martyn. I’ll see you later tonight!”

Martyn doesn’t bother to watch him leave. He looks back to the window, through the bars and into the courtyard. He can’t see the forest from here—can’t see anything for the walls surrounding the whole castle. 

He’s never going to see Ren again, and it’s his own damn fault. Why would he believe a pathological liar over Ren? If Scar had come any other time, if Martyn hadn’t already been jumping to conclusions just because he’d overheard— he’s never going to see Ren again, and the last thing they’ll ever have done together is argue. 

For whatever little it’s worth, he knows now who he trusts. 

—---—

Somewhere at the edge of the forest, Ren falls flat on his face. 

This is the last step in a process, though. The process begins like this: 

The barrier of Ren’s curse is unbreakable, unyielding, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He’s been scratching at it since Scar and his men disappeared over the horizon, Martyn in chains among them. His paws bleed, a few of his claws casualty to his desperation, but the barrier stays. Ren stays, his eyes locked on the path down the hill, pleading for something he knows he’ll never see.

Somewhere in the world, Ren is trusted.

Ren’s fur falls out in patches. The claws—the ones left, anyway—disappear next, and then his ears twitch for the last time, vanishing into his hair. His face changes, muzzle shrinking, body shuddering as the rest of him follows. 

The tail disappears at the same moment as the barrier, and this is when Ren pitches forward into the dirt. He hits hard ground, and what shocks him most is how cold it is—suddenly, Ren is freezing.

He scrambles up onto his elbows, tugging his cloak closer to himself. When he looks down, it’s not to thick fur—Ren finds himself staring at human arms. Perhaps a bit hairier than he remembered, sure, but pale pink, with fingers and thumbs ending in short, dirty nails. 

“Oh, my god,” Ren whispers. His mouth stretches in shapes unfamiliar, a face almost too short. He licks the inside of his mouth and finds all the teeth inside perfectly regular, devoid of the long canines that have dominated his smiles for the last few years. 

He’s human. The barrier is gone. The curse is broken. Ren can do… anything, really. Everything he’s put on hold, anything he’s dreamed while pacing the halls. The world is open to him once again, and he has all the money and power and freedom to find anything he’d like. He could take back the stolen throne. He could seek out revenge on Scar. He could take a walk out into the forest, simply because the barrier wouldn’t stop him.

There’s only one thing he needs, though. One which he knows needs him, too. 

Ren shoves himself to his feet and runs back inside. There’s got to be something he can wear in one of these rooms. He can’t be too picky, though—he has somewhere to be, and he’s already late.

[expectiations]

the way my mind works is musing over how Eleven never mentions River's name again onscreen (apparently he kept on mentioning her to Clara as 'Professor Song') while planning an edit because earlier today, I encountered a River hater gloating over how the Doctor moved on so quickly from River because he never mentioned her again and that she's not that important because the Doctor didn't spend billions of years (relative) trying to get her back after having a conversation with @croxxbunx over Eleven not mentioning River in series 7b after she sent this reel to wondering whether Twelve had done the same post-Darillium to dropping my edit planning because I wanted to continue my series 10 watch. After all, I wanted to know whether Twelve made any River namedrop other than that one deleted scene in Thin Ice. oh wait no that's not a River namedrop.

anyways...

YOUR NAME Your name is something I will never forget. The way it made me smile when I would say it. Now I can't even bear to say it without a tear coming down my eye or the thought of me never finding another you ever again. It's like a spell that won't cast. It's the curse of me never saying it again. anatomy of a broken soul - sehejspoetry

I've seen much hate (or glee) over Eleven not even talking about or mentioning River throughout series 7b. But then I recall Clara telling River that the Doctor mentioned her as 'Professor Song'. I also remember the moments that River is alluded to throughout series 7b. And those three minutes~ish in TNOTD where we get the most romantic DoctorRiver scene in the history of evers where the Doctor tells River that she is always there to him, and he always listens, and he can always see her.

The reason he didn't speak to her, didn't say her name, didn't tell Clara who she was to him, was because he thought it would hurt too much.

And he was right.

River may have already experienced Darillium with Twelve, but from Eleven's POV, he genuinely believed that his time with River had run its course.

When I lost a dear family member about a decade ago, it took me years before I was able to say her name out loud again. I just realized it now after ruminating on the Doctor's grief and their reticence of mentioning River or saying her name.

It's not because they've moved on fairly quickly even though that seems to be the general consensus. As the poem above aptly described, it is the profound pain and fear the Doctor feels over the probability of never seeing their wife ever again. I only had less than half a decade's worth of memories with my loved one, but it physically pained me to utter her name out loud, even a mere whisper. Now think about the Doctor, who had decades upon decades worth of memories with River Song. How much more would it pain them?

[50books50movies]

Nosferatu (2024)

When I listen to a cover version of a song, I want to hear what the artist is bringing to the tune. (It's part of the reason Glee was so successful.) I might even hope that the cover version unlocks something that the original couldn't have accessed, an act that redefines whose song it is. (Otis Redding's 1965 version of "Respect" seems like a footnote to Aretha Franklin's version after 1967.) 

So, when Robert Eggers announced that he was adapting Murnau's "Nosferatu" and Bram Stoker's "Dracula," I was hoping for something more than Gus Van Sant's frame by frame remake of "Psycho." Eggers recenters the film on Ellen, make Thomas less passive, and expand the cast by adding more characters around Ellen and Thomas. To accommodate these additional characters and their storylines, the film grows to more than two hours. This comes with the additional cost that the film has to remind us in its lethargic second half things about Count Orlok's shadow and its connection to the plague and the conflict between scientific modernity and "the old ways." 

Eggers also tried to bring his special, research-driven touch by writing Count Orlok's dialogue partially Dacian, a predecessor to Romanian reassembled for the film by Florin Lazarescu. And he tried to raise the stakes by adding nudity and violence, which previous versions of Nosferatu could not have included.

I just wish the film, beautiful as it was, didn't leave me so bored and unsure what Eggers was attempting to say about the need for a woman to sacrifice herself for the good of the community. 

There are undeveloped strands of criticism of modernity (for all of the pride that Dr. Sievers has in his era's medical sciences, it still seems barbaric to our contemporary eyes, and technology in the form of a gun is no match for Orlok's eastern, supernatural power) and capitalism (Thomas's employer sends him to Orlok's estate in Transylvania to secure his job, and Thomas agrees to a contract he cannot understand earn a commission). There's even a small critique that remarks on how the rich react to quarantine during a pandemic: to look out for their immediate family and break quarantine with no regard for the welfare of others. However, these strands are not the film's primary concern. 

Eggers spends the film's energy on building Ellen as a character, but he isn't able to create new ways to express Ellen's agency. In Murnau and Galeen's version, Ellen makes the choice to sacrifice herself to save everyone else. That choice is built into the story, so Eggers cannot claim credit for making Ellen's sacrifice an active choice. On the other hand, Eggers places the blame for Orlok's coming on Ellen because she and Orlok acknowledge that she had summoned him. 

Eggers also adds another scene that muddies his attempt at feminist recontextualization. Thomas witnesses what he thinks is a Romani vampire hunt at the inn, where a nude virginal woman is led on a horse as bait for the local cemetery's vampire. The woman there is bait, just like how Ellen has to be bait to entice Orlok to destroy himself. The old ways, represented by the Romani peasants, and the embodiment of the modern world's attempt to understand the old ways, Professor Von Franz, both agree: the woman has to be sacrificed for the good of the community. In Ellen's case, we can add some Victorian prudishness to it, since she must be punished for her interest in sex by allowing Orlok to ravish her body. 

This cover of Nosferatu is very pretty. I just wish Eggers was clearer about what he's trying to explore in making Nosferatu now.